My Moribund Mask - a Tribute To Lonliness

With my knees to my chin, And my arms to my chest, And my eyes to the dead space, And my cheek to the floor, My lip to the other, And my mind on the door, And they’re pooling, unknowing, Forlorn tears, not flowing, Caught and held by the eye shape That’s protected and glazed. They look to the inside, At the fire that blazed. But still is my breathing And blank my expression, And neutral the lip set, And limp my position, With minimal movement, It became tradition With thoughts that plough forward, Bereft in my small world, Just waiting and empty; As always I’m cleaving To hope that I don’t trust; Assurance that’s leaving. And it swells to a wail, That will silently howl Through a heart that is sobbing It collapses in grief. Though eyes don’t betray me; The glimmer is brief. Though the torture maintains Its unyielding grip, My swelled heart thuds sedition Against rusty iron bars, You won’t see me hurting Through my moribund mask, No you won’t see my heart Through my moribund mask.