There’s gore upon the walls, but an echo in the halls.
And I wonder why…
I used to believe, there was something deep inside…
I used to be…so full of life
But these veins are withered and dead
A tortured soul with heavy eyelids
I hear organs playing a solemn tome
For the departed…leaving home.
.
I can’t find my friends…
Where’s my family?
Surely I though they’d be here today
Certainly I thought they’d have something to say
Emptiness…
.
What is this existence?
But a labyrinth of abandonment.
.
I could’ve filled this heart with the tears I’ve withheld
From years of abuse
Like the razors obtuse, or the homemade noose
To this day…I dwell at the gallows.
.
I will not be remembered in stone
Nor will I be thought of in tome
My legacy of suffrage…(though in poem) - will not be enough
And I will be loved by no one.
.
Only by the emptiness of my heart
And this darkness…I have made my home.
By: Jay Bird.
Copyright ©2006 Jay Bird
