Out With the Old



Everything I tried was the extent of what was lost. The monster at my side. Oh how the time forgot.

Milestones passed over. Grass grown all to cut. Knocking on Heaven’s door with one foot in the soot.

I stopped you in your tracks. Not a peep nor period. The outpost now vacated. The leering understood.

To hangers left adrift. The bleach is on its shift. To cleanse the stains, the growing pains. A door that would not shift.

Nought to show. A waning life grows tiresome all the same. I’m at my desk, the flashing lights, the resting mirror frame.

A single bed. This single head. Seeks rest far from the fray. Will other plans of mice or men, interrupt the stay?

Comments are disabled.