In times forgotten, in memories now old
Where stories of love still remain untold,
There was a soul that had wandered far and alone
Trying to find a way for his sins to atone.
Lies were his friend as they hid his name.
They hid his past, they hid his shame.
Men had died and their faces burned away,
But murders leave bodies that live for more than a day.
The pen writes the stories and the lies hide the cause.
The gun does the shooting and the pride hears the applause.
The dead may be hidden but the stench lingers long
So where does a man with a past find a home to belong?
© 2018, Danny Kemp All rights reserved.