poesie

ember

and it grows dark,
i feel,
every night is harder
and somber.

i can barely serve
as fuel,
i feel my soul being
torn asunder.

i see the world crumble
slowly,
as a defiant moon
pales.

a dark sun rising,
lonely,
all but compliant in
this chaos.

it grows tired,
i see,
of this cycle of endless
cries.

and it grows weary
of me,
with its deep restless
eyes.

and it begs me,
'end it,
let this curse be put
to rest.'

and it growls at me,
'end it,
cut this dead heart
off your chest.'