The clock it ticks but time never moves
I live each day writing my darkest poetry
And when I sit and pen my muse
I ask in life, what has happened to me?  

I long to write something beautiful
But loneliness keeps my heart in prison
The darker nights they will soon arrive
I ask what kind of life am I living?

My body is worn and deeply scarred
With each day I feel more drained
With my heart ripped from my chest
How long in this life will I remain?  

I wish the cards could be re-dealt
I just don’t want to be by myself

David Swinden©1/10/2016