Wounded

The rain impinges upon the earth again blissfully

The trees sigh in the wind and sway with distilled purity

Stench of reverence permeates the talk of love

Cloudless skies of blue need you now think of you

Curve of your neck is beautiful

Shape of your face is elegant

Gaze but poignant still

But memories stained

Second stain of consequence

Fruit is rotting and then the crowd turns around to go back home

Views so empty but sane proceeds on its way to the grave

Curve of your neck is beautiful

Shape of your face is elegant

Gaze but poignant still

But memories stained

Second stain of consequence

Oh consequence

This is consequence

This is consequence