The once flowing rivers of my eager heart run dry and into an arid abyss I am spun
Without direction the crows gather and sing, crying for the new rebellion that never came.
So we all went home with our tails between our legs, chest red with fury
Passing blocks of stale life we are dismayed and dismantled
by the atrocities we see each day. Yet, will we speak?
Whether we end up eyes wild and blood racing upon the finish line with our story being a victory of passionate action falls to the ultimatum so granted – we will give up or get through
All else is no more than a piece of I or you. In the lifeless, breathless moments of the Unknown I am hindered by the undecided. As if all of the adjective I can source may bring any recognition to the severity of this pure blankness, drowning forgotten bliss.
Where did we go wrong, and what Am I to You, what are We to Do. This ache in my heart is going mad with the blues and I diminish at the thought, for I know the old tune.
Have I known we were stronger than the pains we’ve consumed?
Sometimes it is tasteless, for so long I’d been your muse.
I’m left now shedding layers of a lost, defiled youth
who lived a lifetime of imprisonment through forgotten, washed up truths.