Gone of the Past

Sun, 09/29/2013 - 05:19 -- Soubia

Locations

Bounding chains of time, I meet me at every curving road.

Each sliver of peeling paint bears witness to the wasted years.

Pretty words weave their way, yet concealing the truth that never glimpses the surface air.

 

Turn, turn back just once to mourn the final resting of time.

Rigid spine quivers in weakness, the momentary lapse melts away whispering not today, not.

Never return, turn time on the tiles of the twisted path.

Enslaved to the laws of a heritage that never long forgot, if who I am is already fated but then destiny is a name christened for fools.

The crunching step of gravel sounds the battle cry of never-ending wars because there sits a Queen without a kingdom, realm with my grasp.  Every hope a dusky picture with a frame that attracts.

Frost bites in the dregs of strength, as I lay stranded beneath the howl of the concrete moon.

 

 

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