You never told me
That life would be
Like a boiled egg.
That I’d cry and beg.

Rather sooner than later
I chose the small over the greater.
If I could do it again,
I’d relive the pain.

Each fall I take.
Every morning I wake.
It feels like water through my soul.
Life is burning fast, and I am its coal.

Even though my life is a crowded room,
A flower yet to bloom.
The noise comes back as deafening silence,
Solitude and duty, and their unholy alliance.

Three trees burn in this forest.
A soldier’s choir and a lost artist.
The fog in this domain is too thick to breathe.
Ruby lips and pearl white teeth.