The Heart That Duels Hope


I am older than dirt. Dirt covers frozen bodies, like skin cloaks over the soul. I waited like a man wanting something, but something is fickle, like a change of heart, lo, what cruelest change of heart. She strides ever  so, her lonely soul;

she wanders adrift, amongst the frozen snow. And I a,m in awe, of the very thing I admire, the very same essence, I shalt nay acquire. For she walks the walkway above me, while I am upon cruel ground;

she fades in and out, her very beauty, and walts with nay a  sound-

she is, the cold shoulder, the body that turns it’s back on you;

For she is the empty school made damned, teaching men how to lose.

As in this, I, am taught very well;

I am a scholar of being;

an empty former self.

I wander alone, and thus this is so;

does not despair torment thee, of their very souls?

I watched many years fall apart in her eyes;

I heard the fading wails of winter, until it die-

she and I are like as, and like as is cruel;

the way the broken heart wars with hope, and to the death, they duel-

I am older than dirt, still lonely at heart;

waiting for the dirt to cover over, and cover me over until dark…

Copyrightcopyright December 15, 2014


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