The Cutter’s Summer
The summer sun is dying
As it meets my pale face
The summer sky is crying
As another day I waste
I can hear the crickets chirping
I can smell the summer rain
I can see the camp fire burning
But only through a window pane
I enjoy the summer sunshine
Warming my pale skin, scarred
Blood ran in veins like vines
Cooled by the fresh cut summer yard
The only time I see the sun
Is right before it sets
When all the children to their mommies run
When all the teens whip out their cigarettes
I lay in the yard with my scars exposed
And the infinite summer zodiac weeps
The earth, the sky, and I all posed
The universe and I play for keeps
I don’t party on the lake shore
Or take weekend trips to the beach
I can’t enjoy the outdoors any more
Because of the razor always at arms reach
The cutter’s summer is cold
Cold in the lonesome sweltering heat
And the glances of the young and old
Always fail to be discrete
The cutter’s summer is second hand
Felt through the window or long sleeved cloth
The cutter’s summer is second hand
Limited by the brightly coloured cloth
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[img:fb1bbf300e]http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/50355_9350653541_265_n.jpg[/img:fb1bbf300e]
College graduate and Advanced Emergency Medical Technician.
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