Monday, May 28, 2007
I'll sit and look at the broken tombstones today, some fresh, some old, some remembered, some forgotten, and yearn for a time past when I was alive. Murdered by hate, buried by pride, forgotten by time. I look at the family plot and think about what should have been, and yet, is not. Someone has kicked the stones to the ground, a fallen rock on stony sand, nameless forgotten, till picked up again.