Circles Poem by Bexley Alexander

Giants walk upon my shoulders.
All wanting a look at God.
Bone crushing,
piercing my heart,
smelling my fear,
burying my doubt.

Would you believe me if I told you?
Showed you the black, white and gray?

Take a walk through the filth.

Will you tell?
Do you lie?

The end of the maze is your grave.
And I helped dig it.

It does not echo here.
Denial moves the sun,
and rots the dusty flowers.

Piece that puzzle together,
and burn it when you finish.