An Installment of Poetry by The Art Guy
Dust to dust and time lending rust,
From the neglect and despair,
Broken down beyond repair;
Dispersed by way of distrust,
Scattered throughout the air.
No room to flee-it sticks to me,
An eternity to blame;
To be sifting through the shame,
Of what was supposed to be,
As if destroyed by flame.
But no, the end was surly slow,
"Sit and rot" is weak; it's not
strength, to waste away, forgot;
Eroded so that one blow,
Whisks away war not fought.
Or fight the battle if you choose,
Though you'd be taking a chance;
Are the winnings that enhance,
Worth more than you think you'd lose,
When burns, thoughts of romance.
No room to flee-it sticks to me,
Only a spark to blame;
To be sifting through the shame,
Of what was supposed to be,
After destroyed by flame.
Rebound is hard when walls are ash,
Optimism up in smoke,
Black-cloud-dreams that make you choke;
Goals built high fall with a crash,
Start new embers that you stoke.
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