There is no light at the tunnel’s end—
Only dented cans and newspapers,
Amid discarded butts of dissatisfaction,
Strewn across broken pieces of gravel.

Empty bottles and empty hearts
Play wrestle games throughout the night—

What am I really doing here?
Who led me down this dark alley?
This alley so deceitfully painted in colours,
That, before, were all so lovely.

I’ve given up the daffodils
For chalkdust and white paper.
I’ve thrown away my careful bag,
But, now I want it back.

I want my heart to smile again.
I want myself to return.
But, this heart and this soul,
So sweet but alone
Are absent and i’ve no clue where they’ve gone.

*06.2011