Never Mind The Mourning Mind Poem by Francis Blade

in the cool calm dawn when my mind gets to the starting line
the gun goes off and it is on
the run to neverland, nevermore, nevermind

in the dust of the noonday fog it ran again
like wind whipping sticks of dried truncated taunts
in my backyard, I freeze in cacophonic writhe

now the torrent is the time
when we laid in vined lamentable memories
too close to break free of ourselves

in the dusk of the ranting soul
like the feeble gait of morbid thoughts
the life is crippled as it begins

then curdling sound dismissed
by light and swords that angels breathe
to find a place inside this heart

the sun breaks through at random pace
to lead the child above the clouds
without a glance or second thought

the dawn moves down
the fog lifts free
the dusk is dusk no more

for the mourning mind is nevermind
in neverland
in the cool calm dawn

the heart and soul forever more will be taunted not again