The years burned away.
Like a grassfire out of control,
‘Til all you have left is a
smoldering black mark in your path
that’ll burn you each time you tread there.
You ask yourself what your time is worth,
Waiting for heroes that don’t exist.
Praying for miracles that don’t occur.
Hope flies away like that
Last ray of sunlight before dusk,
Leaving you alone in the dark.
copyright 2010 S.Cordova
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