The grandfather clock
in my grandmother’s house
stood silent in a corner all day
But, sometimes at night
it would grow in height
and I’d run before it had something to say

There are times that when I feel
mistreated by the world
I am reminded of just how unfair
the world can be
While observing the untold suffering of others and
my petition for happiness
seems nothing more
than an expression of ingratitude
in the form of a child’s temper tantrum

As it was
in the beginning
So, it is now
You can’t know
happiness
Unless, you learn how
to shed the last tear of the just
and forever hold your peace

Tired are the eyes
that rest upon the sleep-deprived face
It comes to the mirror each morning
It keeps things from the curious companion
who leans against the bathroom sink
Waiting for some truth to break the unwashed silence

Most days
the mist of morning
will rinse away
my dreams
But when the dreams
are nightmares
I hear echoes
of their screams

I’d rather
the consequences
of 6 days in sin
than suffer the hypocrisy
of repentance on Sunday

Is he like a lowly worm
that crawls along the ground
Blind to what’s in front of him
not knowing where’s he bound
Has he lived a good life
or been dying a slow death
Has he lived his life freely
or struggled with each breath
Is there more to feel sorry for
More actions to regret
Will there be more apologies
Perhaps more blood to let
Is all that’s left are tired thoughts
with nothing new to ponder
Or is it time to look for grass
on the greener side of yonder
?