Sunday, September 7, 2014

The Dormant Soul

 
Nothing stirs within
In the hours I depart
Thoughtlessly roving

Among
Patches of green
Cradling
Their newborn
Springtime shades

I am boxed in
Bound to eternal grey
Trudging through
Its lifeless and hollow refrain

How I yearn to be winded
Truly, devoid of words
To be fully engulfed
By the agony of raw emotion

I must
Reclaim exhilaration
Or wither
Starved, frail, and forgotten

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