Each day I stare into the face of Death
through memories I hardly wish to share
of friend and foe exhaling their last breath
into the face of Death. Each day I stare
at places from the past where I survive
while others filled pine boxes far too fast.
It’s luck or fate that’s given me the drive
where I survive. At places from the past
old scars remain beneath a calm façade
and you may search but it would be in vain
for they are now well hidden by my God
beneath a calm façade. Old scars remain
ensconced within my mind. Though I am blind…
though I am blind, ensconced within my mind.