Discarded can

 

Sat in my own shadow

but I don't recognise

his motions.

My emotions too frail

to stop these oceans.

 

I feel my own shade keeping

the sunshine at bay.

Is it so wrong to want

to feel the love

of a summer day?

 

I feel the spiral whirlpool

of my own thoughts,

twirling me into a world

somewhere away from here.

I feel the pull

taking me to that place I fear.

 

It is dark.

So dark.

In here the lights don't work.

In the distance, wretched howls,

angry growls, and untamed barks,

but I see nothing.

Just the blurred outline

of the dregs of my heart,

bleeding out my last ebbing fires.

In here the sparks of insight

are blighted by demons

clasping them tight,

dulling their light before

they have had a chance

to inspire or delight.

 

Sounds wail, a tornado mind,

winds making the voices inside

shout louder and louder to be heard.

They screech, a squeal piercing

through my feelings,

squeezing out the last drops

of kindness they find.

Until I sit empty.

A discarded can

kicked along the roadside again.

To join the mountain of rubbish

that has piled into

the alleyway at the end.

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle