Broken I am
A man crouched upon tired knee
Brought down by Duty and Ethics and Morals.
I sit removed as an inner part
Of this desiccated husk sucked dry of will
And of beauty
And of magic,
A lingering awareness surveying the ruin of self-doubt
And of strain
And of years poured into creations steeped in falsehood
And in emptiness
Broken monuments to the egos of men whose value my own exceeded beyond measure,
Though I am no longer who I was
But only the he who I have become.
In the still times there is no silence,
Nor do those songs and fantasies play out on the stage of my perception.
Now there is a gnawing doom that consumes my thought,
An unending torrent of failure.
Do not look for me here.
I am gone away.
dtdeedge 