The Deer
My ego is struck with piercing words
That just as soon draw blood
And ache the way
A knife, held by your gaze,
Would pierce my skin
You can see my face
But do not know what lies beneath
And you could never understand
Why I return your glare
Without a tear from my eyes
The tumultuous skies
Churning in the distance
Reflect the bloody truth in being
Desolate, harmful, wicked
Yet I still do not flinch
In forward motion and standing still
It is I who is free to explore
All that my future holds
And you are the one
Destined to be mounted
Copyright © 2008 N.E. Tasker
