Lost

Wandering about
this self-made hell,
The stench increases
as I dwell

Within the confines
I create,
This journey drains
my lonely fate.

Their scented ashes
piled up high,
These burning bodies
fill the sky…

And curl their flesh
to fill this cup
Of fevered dreams,
I can’t wake up.

The pouring rains
entice the soul,
Embrace the pain
devour it whole.

The brilliance of
each rising sun,
My madness blindly
seeks to run.

The clouded breath
all I can see,
This hand of death
shall set me free…

Lost

phantomlimb

Joined October 2008

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