gone, poem


I, as you, walk down this road of broken glass
It dulls the mind with discord – memory

It is instinct to look back

What else is there to do, but move on to feeble hope
Lost is the string of the grey stained path
The pavement is cracked
The land withers in the mirror of the glazed eye
What have we song our lives to become
How can we scrape ourselves together

Into a semblance of existence

It is true
Our nails cannot bite deep enough
Our screams cannot pierce loud enough
Our sickness torment enough

We do not hear ourselves
We break

We do not see

That we are

If you enjoyed this work, please leave a comment below and/or share this with your friends. It will help me immensely. With great sincerity, thank you for taking the time to read my art.

gone, poem

Subscribe to Newsletter

Grimoires, the occasional tidbits, the random opus—subscribe to receive updates from the divergent mind of Author Judah Mahay.

Please share your thoughts below.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: