Men
Made me promises
When I was young
And new
They didn't keep
Because they had known
No one would blame 'em
When I felt old
And used

Do you understand how I feel when these words take ahold of me.

So strange how it goes with the melody.

  It's almost melancholic how tragic this magic grabs ahold of me.  

It's like something took ahold of me.

Like these words arnt my own.

Like their given.

From somthin greater.  

Not a moment that's mistaken.

  Just a world filled with infinite impossibilitys.  

The spirit of my ancestors flowing through the possibilitys.  

Guiding the wisdom of my path through the sorrows that have plagued my family's past.  

Sometimes I feel that theres a spirit watching over me.

Within me screeches a woman on fire - consumed by a violent rage and doused in a fury like gasoline.

i’ve wilted in a void of fraught silences,
and danced amidst dark woods
and starving wolves.

but what a viridian gleam:

there are shadows that mingle through your windows,
and the glass,
just like your own temperament.

even the roses in your hair have their thorns,
but believe in the cracks in my voice when I say:

the darkest parts of the ocean,
will always be the prettiest.

I turn my face to the light
But the low winter sun
Is shrouded in unmoving clouds
Offering no warmth at all
The trees are stark and naked
Like jagged skeletons
With ragged crows hovering
And the world is breathless

For this winter
This of all winters
The air is crowded and heavy
With the ghosts of the painful dead
Their accusing eyes searching
For those whose negligence
In the blast of a plague
Caused their breathless deaths

                                         By Phil Roberts