A Vision Turned Into Carrion

Mornings of great days bathe in sublime sunrise Inspiring confidence and glowing with swathes of hope That good tidings of a magnanimous size Were afoot on the slope Where sadness struts its stuff Brandishing pessimism and nihilism If the going went tough In the context of sadism and cynicism Drowning optimism Whose pride of place I treasure At the expense of the short-termism Rolling in duvets of pleasure Instead of conveying positive messages I reserve for friends and acquaintances in my inner circle Where together we devour sizzling sausages Despite prospects of a potential debacle That encircles and imprisons the vision Which holds the key to the hermetically closed door Behind which lies my progress provision Which if mishandled would turn into carrion on my floor.