Burnt Ashes

 

Burnt offerings,

that’s all that is left of me.

Scraped up embers

thrown on the

dust pile of history.

Crumbling ashes

of hope, blown away,

catching the wind

and drifting slowly

into yesterday.

 

I'm just cinders

with no ball to attend.

My slippers, on fire,

and my wits at their end.

A conflagration

with no hope to cling to.

Ashes is all I'll ever be.

An empty mattress of

yesterday's dreams,

flowing away

like that river

becomes a stream.

 

I'm burnt ashes.

A pile of

smouldering

notepads

filled with

the scratches

I've felt in my heart,

the cuts

I've lived with

for so long.

I'm burnt offerings

to some fiery god,

but my words

are just embers

floating away

into yesterday's dreams

and setting them

ablaze.