The Crux
Streams of idle tears flow,
Some people who’d never
known,
What pain holds, it won’t
let go,
All the scars burning, ever
on show.
Tested beyond the point of
reason,
Too many tears for any
season,
So much cruelty breeding
treason,
Not love enough to bring a
pleasing.
What am I, a fool for you,
A bag to punch and abuse
anew?
On this day where hope is
blue,
Left alone to rot,
desolation true.
Sacrificed for what and for
whom,
Since the light of love
left the room,
Everything beautiful ended
too soon,
Swept aside with lifes’
stiff broom.
Only the brave shall rest
in peace,
But saints and sinners
shall increase,
As if the hate knew not
release,
And where a love would not appease.
Hanging in the sky so awfully
dark,
None are the reasons that I
hark,
Light will wane and desert
the park,
And snuff the essence of a
spark.
Cold and wet comes this
evil rain,
Stabbed deep to increase my
pain,
None the willing who’d yet
refrain,
Tested beyond the call of
duty again.
I note the reason to be
content,
Never really knowing what
this all meant,
Except that love, supposed
heaven sent,
Came infrequently, before
it up and went.
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