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.

Late Night Mirror

Be it day or night

Regardless of mood

I always seem to brood

Try as I might

Thoughts of wasted opportunities

And a misspent youth

Haunt me as a simple truth

The face in the mirror I see

 

Is not the face I recognize

Its the face of dreams forgotten

Of hopes forsaken

Still I realize

There’s little left to say

and far less reason to stay

 

Yet here I remain

Despite my pain

In spite of it

In fact it’s why I exist