Is this the man in the mirror
The withered and meek drifter
Settling for a little bit of coin
Just to toss it in the river
Wishing for a better fortune
Desperate to feel the slightest touch
Frosted warden won't allow much
Gavel echoes with orders to obey
As my hands compelled to clutch
Something familiar and true
Wandering,
Lonesome end
Feeding
The beast again
I choose to live
If I can
To live for me
And breathe again
Dracula's seduction overcomes me
As the waters pulls me out to sea
The empty ring radiates it's stigma
Lingering like ghost stuck eternity
Eyes widen when I try to sleep
Once the animals have had their fill
The remains rest upon the wicked soil
Battered by the sun and rain for days
Leaves the sense of spite and spoil.
Wandering,
Lonesome end
Feeding
The beast again
I choose to live
If I can
To live for me
And breathe again
Down in a muddy hole
Taking my own shovel
Potting my early grave
Whipping if I misbehave
If I keep going down this path
A Lack of love and a single laugh
Just a trance of courage and humility
Is all I need to set myself free
Wandering,
Lonesome end
Feeding
The beast again
I choose to live
If I can
To live for me
And breathe again
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoetryAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
