Life drew doubt

 

 
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Life drew doubt regardless,
as cards were dealt and drawn,
those swings of fate and destiny
which bring us crashing down.

Time stood still on crippled legs,
no fight left to display,
fiery mushroom clouds reborn;
as death did lead the way.

The sturdy grasp of destiny,
her face so grim and stern,
as fear still strokes uncertainty;
and so our lives do turn.

Nose to the ground of hatred,
ear turned toward the past,
so is found pure vengeance;
the dust of hate does last.

Asylum of our making,
built low to hide the chills,
no luxury is waiting;
the alley rots and fills.

Divided is the vision,
in fishnet, glassy eyes,
as bells continue chiming
in beat with brittle sighs.

Sorrow rang from hidden halls,
the songs so surely frayed,
in wings of hope clasped tightly;
the roots of love displayed.

Emotions water now has froze,
hard clasped to horror’s edge,
just salt-bread for the journey
black soap to wash instead.

So does the mind turn ceaselessly,
white-hot from distant suns,
the air burned crisp in certainty;
what’s gone has now begun.

That great proud claim of being,
toil’s mirror on time’s face,
to walk the miles of learning;
as paper fence now drapes.

The days push ever onwards,
the nights are born in sin,
and as the days are stacking;
so does our path begin.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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