Good Luck
A path of destruction has ripped through this tunnel.
A blackened hole left dry and deserted.
No feelings, No guilt, No shame, No more.
No longer is it called a wishing well.
No coins are left, No songs to sing.
The sky's illumination has faded to dull.
Can't wish upon darkness.
A tower of bricks stronger than Berlin.
Not enough dynamite to even crack it.
Which way to go? Talk to the scarecrow!
Wanting to fall into ultimate bliss, yet the inner circles of utopia are not slippery
enough to slide.
To long, a version had been created that was a new horizon.
Now wanting ultimate solitude has become a welcome custom.
Isolated from all inner and outer forces by a power unknown to existence.
The key has been thrown to the bottom of a lake engorged by cement.
A tampered lock is unbreakable due to the sole fact there's nothing left to protect.
Elmer would go bankrupt in a mere attempt to fix the shattered pieces now
crushed to dust.
Try if you will to crack the safe, but beware of the alarm.
It rings loud and long and echoes through the emptiness.
Discouragement may be your new best friend.
Apologies will be frowned upon.
Words and emotions are only a myth of a tale that once was, only, as our story
begins, Romeo is already dead. Good Luck!
Copyright © Lauren Pietrowicz | Year Posted 2006
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