THE FACTS
It ends in the beginning with a needle,
and my skin is ink, I have become
a human post it note in gothic script.
I see the hash mark tally of days,
yet the sun still hangs in the sky
unmoving like an old portrait.
The world bleeds sepia.
She is gone. Time still passes.
I've done it.
It ends in the beginning with a needle.
It ends in the beginning with a needle,
and my skin is ink, I have become
a human post it note in gothic script.
I see the hash mark tally of days,
yet the sun still hangs in the sky
unmoving like an old portrait.
The world bleeds sepia.
She is gone. Time still passes.
I've done it.
It ends in the beginning with a needle.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson