Hovering in the shadow of an undisputed retinue
Loitering intentfully despite our dearth of luck,
Pursuant of dreams now diluted by reality
So diffused amidst corruption that we just don’t give a ****.

What could have been, but wasn’t, in a wash of crude contrition
Being torn between addressing all or chucking it to hell,
I ask you where, in lifetime, was compromise an issue
Particularly if confronted by the tolling of truths’ bell?

Perhaps we should or shouldn’t in the light of an admission
Confessionals so painful in the starkness of the day,
And cowardice worn covertly is not our choice of garnish
So darling heart, this suicide’s the penalty we pay.

M.
5 March 2016
Auckland NZ