Each day that begins
I wait to finish,
As the dawn rises
I wait for the sunset
That never comes soon enough
But is always too early.
The days flit by and dwindle
As I flit from page to mindless page
of stories not my own,
For I long for the release of my soul
from its melancholy tale.
But mine is a fate too often chased
And hunted with a vengeace for release
Sand coats my weary feet,
For into the sand they sink ever deeper
with the weight of my heart
brought down in despair
As I feel my spirit escaping
From the soles of my feet.

04/16/2010

Posted on 04/16/2010
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