3 short sketches

Words are so dredgingly mixed They come from misgivings And are all a facade For our true emotions Words topple like a falling library And on the plains books flap in the wind And occupy the ground as if it were The only home of us all. In time pages will melt And paper will melt And words will go And Then the skies will allow A shielded sun To pierce through the Old wetness In pleasures and passions, deceit Retreat defeat success sustainence We can all say we've seen Our fair share of life Our agoines turn inwards We make borken promises To those we love To those we used to love In our servitude we continue Driven to inner fissiary despair Destitute To be reborn as slaves But slaves not so hopeless Slaves with a sense of the scent of the air And an idea of the future And dignity Fallen broken my life here is a token Of heaven withdrawn Of care removed Of dignity lost I travel through the blank canvii Hoping for a splash of paint In this existential gloom Stuck in my room Maybe the future will be better I imagine old romances And old friends And old excitements lost Old agony won't you give A new hope And from you I will come onto A new truth.