Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Faun

1 by 1 the day is gone
Like a faun I turn to run
Into the thicket of ambiguity
Caught in a tidal-wave of hit & misses
Drunk with longing
Drowning in the aftershave
Reaching for a hand to save me
A word of comfort to console me
Soaring through the thunder-storm
With the feeling of gratitude slowly dissipating
Riddled with confusion
Afraid of the reality
That I may never become the angel
Everyone wants me to be
Petrified
I'm only a man
What nameless hand can save me
From the sinking sand!?

Poet: Skyy Allen

No comments:

Post a Comment