Dead
Lost
The cost of redemption
too high for humanities
dregs to bare
There is no longer light
at the tunnel’s end
and my mirrored friend’s
eyes are vacant with
tomorrows lost
expectation…
When will the pain end
and the sun rise on the
morning of our soul’s
desolation?
Droll preachers intone
empty words of pity
from the ancient book
they’ve been bred to
recite.
Whiskey or beer might
illuminate the darkness
better.
