A vision setting upon grim,
its effervesance fading in the minds eye,
far and gone is the voice of recognition,
a scandal on the soul.
Persistant is the one whom knows guilt,
the conscience is bleeding heavily unto the floor of redemption,
untouched are the pleasantries of life,
far gone are happier times.
Thou whom is alone,
sits quietly in darkened rooms grasping to bottles,
dusty with layers of perplexity,
the wall clock is stuck at wondering-
where did the life go...
which was so promised,
the innocent times and the freedoms,
the people who once were so close,
now lay fleeting outside the window.
april 10 2011