stoned alone

marched to restraint
carved to hone
bated for ill fate
proven to be right
and yet when wronged,
wronged alone

cast in fragments
and wizened in haste
purported to be a fundamentalist
and risen to bitter distaste

the starry starry aztec blue
and the honed craft of a wispy night true
humbled in the din of as dewdrop high
cast atop a mountain too far to sight

blink the blurry bastion blaze
and firth the fuzzy forlorn furthering flight
and may the might muster this make
for whatever we fear losing
will always be on stake

hope in hope that dreams break at noon
and break them mild so the echo dies soon
and when you can hear it inside
you can let it go...

but it hurts when you can see,
when you see it
blow
by blow

what's the reality, who wants to know
it's in the fantasy where I have my say...