Tuesday, November 15, 2011

a trodden altar

The mind- a free wanderer,
Chained by emotion.
Its icarian wings burn.
A leap into the sea-
A heart in a gloomy vault.
A splendid isolation,
Only not so splendid.
An anchored heart,
It sinks.
The last dregs of the prison,
Called life.
The wind will blow ,
my dreary steps into your eyes;
Welling tears and their overflow.
All will be forgotten soon enough.
An existance wiped clean.