You took my sunshine with you
that dark and mournful day.
Turning my world around me
Into the color gray.

Your voice was like concrete
that I learned to lean upon.
When times got cold and hard,
I turned you up and sang along.

Now my lovely days are broken,
scattered in the breeze.
A song I’ll keep repeating
to set my soul at ease.

Farewell Mr. Withers,
your memory will stay.
I’ll keep your rhyme within me
as I walk on life’s pathway.

Once upon a dark moon
not so long ago,
I went to see my other side,
the place of lost shadows.

The melancholy pushed me
into another plane.
A life transcending alter,
I did not pass through in vain.

I ventured to the edge
and that was close enough.
It pushed me back to life
before I could give up.

Coming back to consciousness
I was not the same.
My train of thought had shifted,
something in me changed.

Oblivion didn't scare me
when I laid down at night.
My future stopped controlling me
when I turned off the lights.

So, when curiosity strikes you
to venture your unknown,
please proceed with caution,
there's something you should know.

Everything has a price
and you will have to pay.
It takes away a piece of you,
a toll some would say.

I paid the worst of me
but that might not be you.
It could take away your best
if you make your way back through.

The mirror never lies.
It’s her only friend,
revealing only what
her reflection understands

Dysmorphia of her body,
a twisted trunk of bones.
The food has no thought
to the dogma she condones.

Her gastric acid sets
in her gut it boils and stews.
Nothing to digest,
no absorption to diffuse.

Her duodenums empty,
a vacant anatomic place.
The enzymes will expire
disappear without a trace.

Her clavicle is sharp,
a knife that cuts her veins.
The ribs protrude out,
under the skin, it starts to strain.

The image in the glass
She doesn’t recognize,
She talks to her through
a pair of sunken eyes.

A man of conviction,
a cult of personality.
His name was Thomas More,
a philosopher of society.

An advisor to the king
a saint some would say.
He met his dreadful fate,
on a cold November day.

Treason was his crime
a direct correlation,
he skipped the ceremony
of Boelyn's coronation.

Tyranny took over
the Tudors dynasty.
You do not snub the wives
of the infamous King Henry.

Bring out your dead
with the appendages of coal,
a midnight shell,
for whom the bell tolls.

The streets are bleak.
The demise is contagious.
The Black Death is nigh
and nothing can save us.

The Reaper has arrived.
his scythe’s in demand,
with pestilence beside
the right of his hand.

You cut me off in traffic
in your giant SUV.
No blinker or no warning,
no hospitality.

You did get a gesture
from my graceful lifted finger.
My middle phalange
was raised with some vigor.

I hope you have full coverage
because I’m about to start a claim.
I’ll set my car in over drive
and push you off my lane.

I’m a crazy woman driver.
You’ll find out in time
with screeching whitewall tires,
vengeance will be mine.

Radio murdered the live musician.
It had no regrets,
this was the intention.

Video killed the radio star.
Beauty became the focus,
rather than playing a guitar.

The internet shot music videos down.
Took a whole network with it,
no one needs their MTV now.

Who will massacre the internet?
The verdicts still out,
I'm not ready to place my bet.