Life in perpetual

Written by: Leonard Taormina

                     
I call out her name but there’s only;
The empty sounds of an old familiar noise sounding in my ear.
And torture announces its self-;
With daily amplification of electrified disdain;
And as I search the limits of my own conceptualities;
For afforded forgiveness none comes.
A pauper perhaps void of credit or credibility;
It appears necessary once again to carry on my person;
Yet another and forever increasing branding marks;
As I travel along this lonely path of broken dreams.