Solace of days...

A chink in the armour
That steeled her soul
Our steps are tenacious
We so want her whole.

We've witnessed
Her whirlwind spirits rise high
Then plummet to earth with her wishes to die.

The blues turn to black in those very dark nights...
Her daylight's diminished by sadness and fright.

Who is this tormentor
Strangling each breath
The cruel lowly bugger
Who's solace is death?

To have every hope, every wish that we pray?
Our longings burned out to a deep ashened gray.

So we contort through this dolorous maze
Enslaved as it were, through maleficent sways
Yet light seeps through cracks in this cavernous strife,
And once more we cling to some hope in this life.

...j...






















No comments:

j = mum / m = son