When I sit at my desk in my secret life,
cloaked in hateful thoughts of memories
made by so many regrets and mistakes,
my soul is wrapped in weeping moments
of gloom. It causes my room to offer me
nothing more than a solitary fall of night.
The shadows reflection from city lights,
weave their images across my cracked
and decaying walls, offering nothing more
than boughs of truths that reflect back to
me from mirrors hanging there.
Despondency is my constant companion,
fearing to drive any hope of cheerful gain,
in it’s place only pain for my musings delight.
Though many disappointments peer through
my melancholic stage, my wine blood red flows
through me and like a dark cloud hanging over
it soothes me, keeping my secrets from the world
like a frozen lake waiting for summer thaw,
yet the many cracks in ice all around me leaves
me withered like a frosted dying rose.
Mornings come too early with fright, dreams fade
from my recall, yet like angels, come from
heaven on wings, they fill my room with their light
and silver shining. Cleansing the stale air with
their sparkling majesty.
An opening, just for a spell, gives me a peek of
heaven’s half veiled face, glowing with some hope,
when dark thoughts shroud my inner core, I am
lifted by it’s celestial grace forevermore.
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