On the verge of tears
raging blizzard of pang
a twinge of disappointment
I flew into a howling rage
trapped in the skies
dismally desolated
stereotyped as absent-minded
metaphorically speaking
What am I supposed to do
tall oaks from little acorns grow?
I sat there deep in contemplation
empty eyes roamed the room
wore sackcloth and ashes
the sinews of life
I strained every nerve to snatch victory from defeat
like I’ve got a couple more irons in the fire
I wandered back towards the dreams
the time brought my life to an end
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that time was lying
the thought brought me to an abrupt halt
It was blowing a gale outside
like a phoenix my hand strayed to the hope
Wasted tears hitting concrete floor
blooming ode to my failed gods
their wind surging pass
message of what was and what never will be
writes on the surface of my face
midnight cries from crippled stars
a funeral procession of goodbye
rises
I am at the end of this journey
bare
hands wide open bleeding
with my own nails of failure
puncturing skin that no longer feels
will I rise once again
on my third day celebration
when the mythical rock is rolled away
and feel the gift of life springing forth
will anyone be there with sack cloth and ashes
to wipe away future misery
I need an answer as I contemplate
the end and the beginning
someone tell me
or let me sleep forever
in this tomb where future pain
can never touch me.