by Stefon Napier21 Jul 2013
We are indeed hollow
Point to a boy murdered in the hay asking
If he's dead,
Where is the bread we broke with him?
Decayed, estranged world!
Was his memory not a yoke even?
Unleashed his blood but not prepared to soak in it.
Shameless crows poking at a story untold
Little known that God's weight pressures that soul into gold.