To be left behind
Alone
On the shores of one’s life
Deserted
Lost
As the ships of fortune
Roll away beyond reach
To perceive
Even the smallest things
As a source of terror
To shrink
From the very light of day
Yearning for the escapology
Of black night hours
To let roll
Tears of desperation
As one recognises
One is nothing
But a broken being
How strange to be
So isolated
So alone
In this whirlpool
Of *******
Black
Tar
If only describing
The sentiment of inadequacy
Could disable its grip
And free one
From its power
The cold winter months
Take hold
Of my entire being
As I stare at emptiness within me
Longing for escape
Bruised words spill
Over my page
In tribute to
The crisis hours
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
To be left behind
Alone
On the shores of one’s life
Deserted
Lost
As the ships of fortune
Roll away beyond reach
To perceive
Even the smallest things
As a source of terror
To shrink
From the very light of day
Yearning for the escapology
Of black night hours
To let roll
Tears of desperation
As one recognises
One is nothing
But a broken being
How strange to be
So isolated
So alone
In this whirlpool
Of *******
Black
Tar
If only describing
The sentiment of inadequacy
Could disable its grip
And free one
From its power
The cold winter months
Take hold
Of my entire being
As I stare at emptiness within me
Longing for escape
Bruised words spill
Over my page
In tribute to
The crisis hours
7th February 2016
