Starring in the face of malevolence,
Stung in the hive of circumstance,
lost on the gamble of chance.
No path back to the sun…
Brutalized by the winds of defiance.
Stabbed in the back with cold kisses.
Nailed to a cross without a voice in the trial.
Buried alone…forgotten.
No dawn again…
Existing on the frayed edges of hope,
Watching myself slowly disappearing,
down the deep well of silence.
Forgotten how to remember,
Living in the sun but its feeling like December.
The birds have stopped their singing…
There's no pupils in the blackness,
Ice forming from your breath.
The record is skipping while I keep tripping,
I'm dancing with death and she's still laughing.
Just waiting for the stars to reappear.
1 comment:
I'm not sure how to respond to this poem but to say 'how moving!'
Was hoping the end would include the phrase from the above...
"There are footprints out of here"
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