Fidgeting with dead metaphors- heartbroken
I walk on...
My own tyrant blood seeps back into my bewildered toes
I cannot hear- my soul is silenced
I walk on...
Apathy consumes each hair that suggests the next lie on my body
Still, I continue on...
The leaves blow as the trees whisper my wrong
As I cry sorry towards my griefstricken mind
I beg for sanity though there is no light
I walk on...
The sun has just begun to set
Yet what am I to do when my wits are wet?
the sirens blind me
So my senses are very wrong
Wobbling, I will journey on
Forgve me, please!
Reduced to a beggar, and belittled to a thief
I walk on to see that lonelieness is the only pressence I now breathe