Something Old

There comes a time when all loves die, when only the hollow withered husk remains. When all is for not and reason is lost to tide of despair that washes in. The good forgotten and the ill is all that remains to guide you on your path . When that occurs all you can do is cry for the world you lost and steel yourself for the world that will be created by the flames of the dying feelings you felt. Brace your self for the long winter to come as the heart repairs and you move on.

Holy Daze

​Holidays, holy daze

Timeless craze 

Mindful ways

Speaking sharp words

A blunt minds

Wields a bitter pen

That the hypocrisy of sin

Are what they neglect to find 

Yet cut they do like swords

They make the wound then dress it 

As if to impress the forgiveness of the hit

Little do they suspect 

The benign neglect 

That worms its way into the hearts 

Of those with small parts

To play even upon this stage

Regardless of age