Wednesday, April 13, 2011


Prometheus, do not stand beside me,
A drought is among us,

Livelihoods and families cling upon the
Last real things they have left to hold onto,

And the homes are all like the trees,
Awaiting an overzealously charged particle,

Accelerants or just bad luck,

But of course, these things are but kindle for the likes of you,
I beg you, walk to some other town, many years from here,

Allow us to persevere until the flood washes through

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