Author Information
Crepuscular
Dark eyes that never held a crush
Stone cold that never shed a tear,
A tone that's never paled or blushed,
A mouth that hasn't smiled in years
A mind that sees a single path--
And God would certainly be proud
A hand that's never touched a glass
Or risen up against the crowd
A face that's stuck at five 'o clock
Ticking quickly his life away
Legs that sprint to the hands' tick tock
Crushing flowers along the way
For those dark eyes have never seen
Why he's still here or what life means
