Little King of Sorrows
Little King of Sorrows Poems
A Place To Rest My Soul
Life for me was hollow,
Color's were just a shade,
The days just ran together,
Dreams they slowly fade.
Every waking moment,
getting harder than the last,
Hopes about the future,
tarred and feathered by the past.
Smiles a force of habit,
As pure as man-made snow,
Real enough to see it,
But fake enough to know.
My actions like a zombie,
thoughtless instinct to the core, ...
A Victim Of The Moment
As the winter moon reflects upon the icy river valley,
a soul searches the darkness of his own mind,
where the water of life and resource once flowed abundant,
has frozen over with the changing of the seasons.
A victim of the moment.
The trees, naked and transparent, fall prey to the ever-changing winds,
even among the protection of its own kind, still portrays a lonely and lifeless chill,
far from the summer breeze that tickled it's leaves with joy and meaning,