Floors Of Ashes Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Walls of despair gabled by iron gates standing in the way
of physical escape, tramping ever so solemnly through yards
of diligent neglect.

Turning around, seeing nothing familiar in a familiar sight,
destinations driven from within, pushing, prodding interior
walls to expand and break.

Rolling down exigent lanes of sadness, falling upon a field
of vast misfortune, noting that succulent life has disappear-
ed from the inside out.

Limply grasping the single thread of survival, not really
caring if it breaks and throws you into hell, fried with the
heat of saddened neglect.

Pacing floors of ashes, wanting to repent, but not having
done anything you'd be sorry for, exclamations are buried
deep in pits of hot fire, never coming to light, expiring
before daylight begins to see an ending of dawn's late night.