Oct
15th
Fri
15th
My Valley
If not my own gaze, the eye of the feckless sun
a beaten path of misery; a curse of reason
decline care and so decay, crawling away
Only home in this canopy of safety; only sheltered in this childhood security, against all odds and at odds with friends, at odds with the ebb and the flow.
Might yet stand, might yet take your hand
At the half way point in the road
Might yet shed no tears when we lock eyes
But not today.
My rugged valley a shelter and a prison
Runishment recurs daily. Anguish incurred eternally. Sentenced to stare end over end, burned by the feckless sun, I am your prodigal child yet the suffering is never done
