Lament
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Thrice I attempted to express my feelings,
Thrice I failed miserably.
A fog covered every part of my soul.
A storm darkened my brain,
But no lightning lit my thoughts.
All that was sweet, is dead.
And I am dying too,
Slowly but surely dying,
Slowly, till with the finality
Of an auctioneer’s blow
Death’s axe shall fall
Like a yellow karate blow
Then shall I be cut in twain:
But not yet, alas not yet,
My death but lingers,
Now I only wane.
Oh, curse the world.
Has the time come
When I must close my red-rimmed eyes
And give up my ebony soul
To the chaos and darkness below?
14 September 2021
Placed 1
Word Chosen No 2
''L'' Contest New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2021
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