Photo: Waiting

On thorns I slept,
Cold and unmoving,
Waiting for the harsh rays
Of day to pass over us.
It was the only constant
In this equation,
The bitter truth we fear,
The fear that binds us,
The binds that hold us
From what we are.
Weary I am,
And may remain;
Dreary and dreadful
As I've ever been.
This isn't a farce,
This is reality.

Lyrics: Satire