The Growing Darkness
My last reflection of the past holds little hope for me,
like weightless feathers it floats slowly from my mind.
Darkness fills each lost moment with lonely memories,
waiting to engulf each hollowed void it leaves behind.
With the same lines I've planted again and again,
I farm the seeds of my stale imagination.
My body remains, but my mind is now fallow,
sprouting worn words reaped from fields of desperation.
Black is the soil from which grow these broken verses
devoid of life's magic, no heart or devotion.
My graceful fairy princess fades from my vision,
where once she loved me with impassioned emotion.
Now nothing of substance weeps warm from my soul
no desire, no beauty, no sweet love or passion
only ice covered metaphors and rotting rhymes.
My sightless eyes, blind, to all, but the light of contrition.
05/30/16
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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