Where I am walking

is just as unappetizing

as where I am

 

I will leave by my own hand

 

The sun burns the feet

The breeze is full of confessions

 

I will leave by my own hand

 

I will not be defined by the

SOS in the sand

The sun burns my hand

 

Why did I follow myself here?

Was it to chronicle?

 

I will leave by my own hand.

Philip V. Coombs 12-1pm