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10:49 a.m. - 2002-03-18
The hags of depression circle round

Bloody knees, bloody face, bloody sound

Unending words, hopeless thoughts all abound

Where's your voice.....only sound...'won't confound

All the suffering taking root, earthly ground

Tall pine sentinels overlooking Tory Glen

Shook, trembled split apart only when

Lightening foolish lightening appeared western sky

And lifeblood drained..

On earth loved by I...

And all those I truly loved

Passed me by....

Eventually by...

Skies clear, again I discern a few shapes

In fluffy, slow-moving distant clouds

The hags stand at a distance mouths agape

Daggers hidden under itchy woolen shrouds

Pleading am I at welcome gate

Hearing derisive laughter... from hags mouths...

It's too late


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