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.
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