Knifing Empty Air
Silent cold screaming loneliness is all that can be heard here,
It splits the air as a blade that has just left the bastard file,
A sky dark grey blankets my cares, warms my cancerous apathy,
These days mix into one, a fast brewed blend of monotony played in vain,
A record spins ceaselessly on, a musical carousel, a soundtrack for my empty days,
Closed in, secluded, I have forgotten once again to be human.
My hopes and dreams I have cast aside in this windowless chamber,
I grow deaf and blind from the silence that eats at my senses,
I cannot feel the hope for tomorrow that led me to this pitfall.
Dreams that once burned bright behind my eyes, now lay snoring
In a funeral pyre; it ignites, shines bright, what once was is destroyed.
Will they resurface from the ashes? Or will the winds simply sweep them away? – Gilbert Attwood Jr.
Copyright © Gilbert Attwood | Year Posted 2011
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