death

 Body bags, Toe tags, assorted pieces galore.
Once they were a soldier, now their my mind's horror.
I am only treated, I never will be well.

 We're all prisoners of imaginary lines,
trapped within boundaries that torments our minds.
Foreigners and insurgents are simply a crock.

    Another wonderful day in the world of dreams,
    the world of screams,
    the world of blood that flows in streams.
 Is it just me
    that can see

    I choose not a pulpit and I choose not a pew,
I choose not to worship like the social clubs do.
I walk my own walk and choose my own path,

    Oh ye of little faith
buried beneath thine
search for answers
 once possessed
 now ye stand
bent, broken and marred
 pages once turned

  I went to the greenhouse and saw Geraniums in bloom,
it was a sign that the warm summer was coming soon.
They had lots of other flowers there for sale,

 For all the Mother's Days I forgot,
for all your birthdays where I was not.
For all the calls I didn't make,
for all the visits I didn't take.

  In a small Illinois town they call Newman,
A person took over a grocery store that had a new plan.
His Name was Mike, he was quite a friendly guy,

        Are our steps numbered from beginning to end?
Or do our lives roam as free as the wind?
We were all born and we will all die,
Is there a reason for us to ask why?

 Does everyone have the same taste of death
When their lungs collapse from their final breath?
Do they all have a similar Heaven to find