Unable To Be Mended Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Head bowed, hung in the cycle of death, not able to lift
itself and see the sparkle of life all around me.

Drifting slowly in sounds of eerie mystery and mystical
sorrow, planting itself deeply within my being.

Whispering softly, tears falling into my broken heart,
not able to be mended any longer.

An essence of abandonment pulling me apart, testing the
strength of my character, as I sit in corners of darkness.

Not wanting to be a part of anything again, life devoid of
who I was, no future now to see who I am, life is filtered
away beneath the setting sun.