I am one confined angst
cloaked by a crepuscular quilt,
dreary, and dying bit by bit
within the facade, I have built.
I am that passerine whose
ichor blent in that rufescent dying sky,
with pinions ever so tarnished
and no tenacity to fly.
I am a forlorn mercenary
eroded right till the core,
with a numbing heart
and nothing left to fight for.
I am just one ordinary dread
waiting for thy cue,
just lacerate my soul
and I'll bleed ink all over you.
I am salt pestered tears
dawdling to run,
wreck this dam
and despair I become.
I am that futile syllable
omitted by the choir,
I will leave behind my echoes
in an iambic metered pyre.
