Bleak Barfly

Blue grey, bleached white, Onyx indigo, blackened night, The same is felt, dark or bright, In shadows or winter’s harshest light. I find it buried even within my soul Shards of ice, shades of miner’s coal. Simply placed to fill the hole Left by what others stole. It exists when I’m alone and breathe it in, Showing up in the cares i feel depleted in. The shiver starts from deep within, And I anxiously hate the wait for it to happen again. If I can be honest, and have a truth be told, I’ve been here too long: I wasn’t supposed to be this old. I’m tired and weary of all the things I’ve had to watch unfold, So I think I’m ready to go back home; be left in the earthen cold.