deepundergroundpoetry.com
Andes Undone (The First Appearance)
Singular veins rust over time.
A heart is bound by the things it likes.
If time means nothing, then we live to die.
In the desert, swimming through miles of sand.
The heat turns it to glass, and I'm cut all over.
If only these lines in my skin could retrace my steps
I'd know exactly how to get home again.
It didn't take long until the army caught on.
They practically tasted my sweat from miles away.
Prisoners of war are victims of decay,
and now I'm failing to see the point.
Wash your hands with the dirt,
spend some time pretending that it didn't hurt.
A heart is bound by the things it likes.
If time means nothing, then we live to die.
In the desert, swimming through miles of sand.
The heat turns it to glass, and I'm cut all over.
If only these lines in my skin could retrace my steps
I'd know exactly how to get home again.
It didn't take long until the army caught on.
They practically tasted my sweat from miles away.
Prisoners of war are victims of decay,
and now I'm failing to see the point.
Wash your hands with the dirt,
spend some time pretending that it didn't hurt.
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