Forward we march

A night of decision,
of division,
of gayness,
heartbreak and laughter,
like and unlike any other, tis mine.

though cruel and harsh
are the rules under which we march,
hold the standards high,
and to hope i let fly,
in madness, agitation and battle frenzy,
i lust and in hope i envy,
the blades of grass,
crushed, under victorious heals
like slivering glass,
hushed, i wonder how it feels

the march then halts
to seek treasures in vaults
aware and unaware of the lurking light
this march shall end in plight
ascend or descend
nothing is left to defend

aye, tis harsh
the laws by which we march.

9/1/2006 7:00 pm