Untitled #101
there is a dark and aching space in my head
where the night and the dream never end
where that tower fell, and all I can see is a star.
a star. a star and a crooked King, that new smooth.
and I sit in the glass and the gutter.
where Atlas is broken from the weight of the world
where the streets are littered with propaganda
swollen tongues and rebellion against aged princes
dying fools and kingdoms of soot and blood.
where I crawl in the ruin. hope and wish for an end.
an end to self doubt, what if and how can this be.
where the Harpy claws and sings. taunting.
kissing my ears like the wind and her name
leading me on to the sun. that promise of a new day
but all that rises is the fear and the pain.
so I cry in the night. and I dance in the gutter.
and watch her new carriage swoon by.
and the tale half told, leaves no happy after
and we all carry on different scars.