Grey, cold, soaking wet wind whipping my face
dripping disgrace;
drifting in space with a broken ship
wishing for a river and a broken oar...at least there I could swim!
Plans were made behind the scenes.
Schemes were hatched and summer fun put in a stall headed for the ground with no chute.
No end
No silver lined clouds on the horizon.
The air is cold and I'm stuck with strangers.
The flares are all gone as I duck from danger.
Castle corrupted and cockpit cracked open.
The pressure popped the seals, and I'm left too weak to pull it all closed again.
It's okay though.
I'll hide in my own dungeon; digging my own mote with broken fingernails and cracked cuticles.
My own prison suffocates me; melting into the mold.
Playing the role written for me.
There's no escape, just more and more
piled on petals from dead flowers.
What could've been should've been, but now gone...
forever in a vacuum and lost in some sea....