Mother and child, room of wails
Pales in comparison to what the pen has prepared
A laird to hardships unaware, she protects her hope in her ***** to no avail
For what hails heroes from the dust least they have yet to be erred


Their tormentors shudder from oppressed cut brilliance hidden in pages, addicts to riches bought with blood
Yea, a spud to peace, their wages of greed persist into a protagonist’s drudgery
The journey they face disregards limits, obstacles held together by the will of the author must they succumb
Shunned by amity, the mastermind leaves their conclusion smudgily in dirt


We Readers helplessly watch our heroes with words of consolation clumped in our throat
Devoted to a good story, we gleefully sell time to the composer so our champions can climb the ropes
Common tropes of old, we discuss in groups or alone characters we breathe to life with admiration in which we bloat
Rote in its finest, we continue this slow dancing of pages to the tempo of screams of peril or the feast of shortlived jokes
For the author knows to keep everyone afloat by throwing a good tale on a boat

I breath their air and yet not a part of them
I sit in the same circle as them, talk the same way
And yet I’m pushed out
How long will I see their backs and not their faces
I call them friends or maybe I was wrong
Did I lie to myself to feel better
I speak but those words fall upon deaf ears
I watch from the side line with this transparent wall, blocking me
I scream but no one will hear me
The hidden tears is what they can’t see
The cold is coming in
Who is out there? With fire? I want to know
Where’s the Hope I use to know
Is he here? Or there?
I’m shaking in my knees
Oh Hope, please
Are you out there looking for me?

Boredom
Yesterday
Today
Tomorrow
What’s the difference

The sun rises each morning to vanquish the sky
What's more, moon fights back each night as stars flight
A repeat, Mankind caught in a perpetual cycle

Boredom and Inertia, two monsters that lurks in the shadows
Under the radar stay they hidden
Their victims always full of potential but lack discipline
The sight of a slacker lifts their spirits and waters the mouth
Fatigue tears into the flesh and latency rots the bones

Life flows in veins, mine runs out like a river and stains the marble floor
Soiled with procrastination
Not a cry to be heard