Laying in bed today, listening to tunes
As I so often do
A feeling encroached, one I could not shake
Or attempt to lose
The sound of sadness, through the microphone
Blew the dust from my aging bones
Sunlight diffused, into the tomb
Of my desolate room
Shadows scattered, from their thrones
To reveal four walls of stone
Flowers dressed, this cold gray place
Where I woke from rest
Bare and unburdened, my blemished fleshed took its first steps
Bent but not broken, rebirthed, awoken
The ticking hands of time draw a line, between a lived life, and the moments you feel alive.
