Wednesday, July 17, 2013

And then you

I stand along the edge
Shouting out
My misery
To the gods 
Who do not listen

Hope is a dead thing 
Blood spit from my mouth 
Hacked away with metal
And her forgiving stare

So I court death 
The only opponent left
With harsh laughter 
And a mocking grin

For I am the god
Of the arena
With the sky above
And her corpse always beside me
I am the victor of empty things

1 comment:

  1. Oh so wonderful. And so different from what I usually find here. Always great with the prose.