::10:14:07::

::: Wary :::

Wary, the clouds bend low to caress the marshlands near the harbor,
I'm on the reef, 20-feet deep,
Sunken treasure chest I'm finding,
Holding my breath I'm unwinding.
 
It could be worse,
The curse was bound by blood.
Who but fate could be blamed?
The child created his own games
Dealt to the infant at birth,
Mirth was scattered on the child, slightly wild.
He grew distant from reality and grazed the edges of mortality,
Gallantly. and
Gradually he learned that all that was placed in is path was for the better,
Of the community of course,
Let life run its coarse,
Get off your high horse and ride forth into the night with no support,
No sword, just a sickness.
And see who can make it through the forest,
Alone, with no home, dare to roam the night as it is just a dark night-mare,
Scared to find what lies on untouched paths,
The steel garden waits,
Take the green apple and ride the serpent beyond mechanical gates
The steel garden calls
Take the dark velvet carpet and strut into the concrete oasis,
On a daily basis,
Daddy's free-bassin'
Mommy's free-spirit, well let's just say is free.
Trying to decide what the outcome will be, it's indefinite,
The barred branches call the children into its terrain, and the summer rain hasn't
Been felt in years,
The child was dealt tears to trade for his tirades,
Proclaiming the Lord in the highest, the time was idle
His idols were deceased, his eyes seen the beast of the devil,
He's been in the lair and stared down the anti-
Christ saved him,
Turned him into a simple man
A simple "Ma'am" would do,
Tattoos are proverbs on the desolate ones,
Where is the Son?

Written by: ~ Robert Carbajal