by Abolitionist

Within my soul I feel the cold of life, as cold as ice, 
like a broken marriage between a husband and wife; 
relationships – relate – bitter in taste like milk turned paste, 
I waste time trying to find the divine in this place, 
my past, if I could erase, 
but presently faced with destitution 
like the unpaid retribution 
of a race making a case 
for things that don’t relate – 
relationships – like love and hate, 
agreements and debates, 
a hug between two or the face 
peppered with the spray of mace; 
relationships – relate – between my soul and flesh, 
a test of faith, but my fate like a game of chess, 
every move calculated not a guess, 
but nevertheless I must confess, 
I seek life not death, 
with each breath I take, 
connecting – my soul and flesh – relate. 

Interrelation by Abolitionist

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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