Judah Mahay, Author
  • Poems,  Works

    Gone

    I, as you, walk down this road of broken glassIt dulls the mind with discord – memory It is instinct to look back What else is there to do, but move on to feeble hopeLost is the string of the grey stained pathThe pavement is crackedThe land withers in the mirror of the glazed eyeWhat have we song our lives to becomeHow can we scrape ourselves together Into a semblance of existence It is trueOur nails cannot bite deep enoughOur screams cannot pierce loud enoughOur sickness torment enough We do not hear ourselvesWe break We do not see That we areGone