At first, it felt like a shadow A casting of self doubt The ifs ands or buts Like a cloud overhead Blanketing the sorrow inside Snow drifts as anxiety Looms underneath The bellowing darkness Calling to me inside the grove
A trickle of emptiness Floods it’s organic base Like clay, my mind folds Molds into humorous disposition A fatality of wits, it collects Wrecks, in it’s symphonies A glorious beast, beats To the heart of Camelot But Arthur always falls Fates betrothal A dance with death The gated Hatred
Bonded in the sins of loneliness Only the broken know the song Like the knots of our timeline Written on our flesh, it rests In the momentary flash A reaction, distant past Reflecting today’s society Under lock and key
Victim’s of the Grove
But Gwen couldn’t see The strife in these streets Where your name echoed Deep into the sea Where she cried and begged But no forgiveness was spoken The dirt between my toes Feels the way she felt Lost in the intricacies of fate Swallowing pride before the race But there’s no sin in grace A timid state, relaxed face Deja vu, but not with you Just children, Mindful Raised by broken people.