Everything is lost.
No joy or sorrow.
Wayward hope and security,
A loss of earth’s fragrance
Dignity not borrowed.
Elegance a word placed,
Only for lawful sanity,
Yet, no change.
Spiralling thoughts,
Entices the fall,
Of a drenched hole,
That is raging for peace,
Yet the hollow cries,
Makes the wait steep.
The free fall of a heartless cry,
Invokes the passengers,
Passing by.
Only for their tongues to be stapled,
By their emotions that despise.
A heart room full of laughter,
For the envy of the joyous folks
Causing brevity,
That feels of endless torture,
That is remote.
So speak ye loved one,
The time that greatness arose,
For love is the free fall,
But the story of the tumble,
Has never been told.


© Robyn G Neymour