Poetry Collection Vol.1: Ex Nihilo

Lost Ones

Teeming to brim, waiting for means to be exhumed.

Obscured like dimmed visage in cycles of the moon.

Attempts to sheer away aweful moods

And peer for reason they ought to swoon.

Inner thoughts, where these ones often brood.

For strife seemed all that was ever knew.

In life, much dread had been accrued;

Though it was not self to blame, there was much sadness and accompanying shame.

Happiness, a clasp rarely attained. The past, all laced with pangs,

Accustomed to disappointment's crushing fangs

Whilst one's goodness in deeds goes mostly unsang.

In this dystopia they're calling home,

Under ominous clouds they wander abound;

Content only holding hope for tomorrow,

The pavement cemented therein by this lament and sorrow.