The evening fades, the dull night begins
A man behind his desk with paper and pen
Got some weight on his soul, so he lets go
Takes himself to a place, only he knows
The pen slides from his grasp, an emptied flask
A head full of years, a heart full of tears
Both spill on the desk, a much needed rest
Succumbing to his problems, without contest
Half-hearted scribbles plaster the page
Thoughts embedded in his former days
Pleas for some solace, an ounce of depth
A renewal, the pureness of angelic breath
No comments:
Post a Comment