This Was You
Crippled tears fall unnoticed, unwanted
In a shadowy room that's dimly lit,
By a fading, flickering, suicide candle
Grasping in vain for that last broken straw,
were the last silver lining of hope refuses to surface.
At last a solid decision is made for the good of all,
To become one with the cold chill of fall,
As the roaring freight train in the brain makes its final stop.
The bullet slips effortlessly into the waiting chamber,
like the last sperm penetrating a waiting womb.
The climactic end to an invisible existance,
and in one instance,
that last glance in the dusty cracked mirror tells the truth,
This was you.