Who am I?
Seeking absolution, I wander the alleyways of times gone by,
awash with wasted regrets, I crawl into the yawning crevasse,
clutching at straws as merciless time takes to the sky.
Drenched in the reeking stench of wrongs I cannot undo,
I scurry blindly through the maze,
seeking pain to convince myself that today’s reality is true.
Torn to shreds, my tattered mind bobs, weaves and swerves,
my fingers clawing at the jangled knots of my frayed nerves.
When does the moulting of skin cease,
crumpling dreams floating away with each passing breeze.
Shattered hearts lie mortally wounded, unable to mend,
washed-up and washed-out, cast into a palace of indifference,
no enemies to be found here, swallowed up by pity, my perennially faithfull friend.
Who am I,
this shuffling carcass of flesh and bone,
enclosed in a fortress,
a prisoner by choice,
behind my impregnable walls of stone.
Who I am,
matters little as I count the hours of each frigid night,
as my salvation rests,
in the tomorrows yet to come,
while I refuse to surrender to the darkness,
for as long as I can see,
the faintest glimmer,
of hope’s flickering light
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