The Fallen Poet

(The Fallen Poet) Shadows, fall from the east Winter show, white meadows, Compelling words lost, in a silent world Beautiful, Bloomingdale is how it goes Apocalypto-- my very own limbo Alone in a field of corpses- A field of men, women and broken pens, Images of angels fallen to their knees A piece of space, of solitude The sun a wasted disease The more I prayed the worse I felt, Lord, I came before - broken and alone Heaven sees the secret inside Lost I may be, yet you see Offended me, I no longer sing I wait till all is asleep My ink is dry, a broken poet, with nowhere to go Lost in the shadows of snow, frozen like ice A sheet of paper, with no meaning, no words My friends, my comrades, how easily one forgets Like a game of chess, I panicked Made all the right and wrong moves I lost my way, staggered across Love comes and love goes My heart weaker than, weak I don't know how I survived before, After turning the other cheek I was no longer whole, forsaken myself endlessly I was lost, could not even count on myself Guidance, I ignored no one believed what's become of me Alone, I stood in old footsteps after falling down At times end, I found nothing could put me back where I belong It's time to get back on offense, Walk through the new, refreshing old footprints ~*~