Asunder

Some days are as darkness, although light may shine down upon them
They are never fully bright in the dim lit shelters of self wrought iron
With emotions as a petulant child,
Weeping tears of pestilence
Grief
Streams of loathing, light, fog and mist
Days gone by, opportunities lost
Missed
The words fall from my mouth and lay at my feet
As each mouth formed brick mixes with emotional sediment
The words eventually form a wall,
Built by my spade tongue
A tower
Such beauty in the menacing truth of self-made horror
Now who will grab my hand and help me?
It must be torn down
Completely
So that I may be rebuilt









-j.g.smith (08/24/08)