It's been a while since I've written,
Subjected to vicissitudes of fortune,
And beginning to labour in the stillness of night,
I've been dwelling in the shadows of remorse.
Those for times gone by that I see infront,
And start to frighten my life ahead,
But let there be no blood inside,
That dries my ink and broods aside.
I feel young and at the same time old,
I have lived the lives of a thousand dead men I'm told,
But there is much to see I feel,
So I live by the word that I stand to heal.
There have been incidents too many to tell,
As I continue to toil amidst the world they call hell.
I'm tired inside but I breathe outside,
My world doesn't change with a breath, does it?
Comments