180000
4
To a sense of spirit ...not yet dead
taken somewhere, kicking screaming
through the caverns of your afterthoughts
near the epicenter of that chilling fragment
perhaps of a glorious dream unrealized of unspent passions spoil
still fervent in its seeking ...to be lived
yet, left abandoned by your conscious thought
to fester on by whatever means
become available in the cesspool
of damned promises
outright lies and broken dreams
as with all passions come to naught
in stolen whispers...haunts and twisted bits
of all that forever ...we have lost
comes back to us for redemption
yet, we fail to recognize
our own reflection
creating panic instead of pity
for the unfortunate orphans
of our unfulfilled hopes and the shadows
in our tears...we dread
facing the very footprints we have tread
the product of our losses
which have become
our fears
C2
