A Bit of Verse from the Depths of My Mind.

June 25 2006

Hang me from the highest branch.
Scorn me with your sharpest words.
Leave me, trailing, days on days.
Feed my body to the birds.

Rip apart my memories.
Mock the works of mine own hand.
Tell all my love was simple lying.
Sear me with the traitors brand.


Slash out my existence.
Ensconce me in obliging ground.
But know this if ye think to try:
The truth wont die without a sound.


-- © Kelly Sullivan
-- June 25, 2oo6