Death Of My Dreams

The Dark Side

I watched...

while silent tears,

of one-sided grief,

slowly ran in rivulets

down my cheeks.

Last rights were spoken,

but did nothing

to undo the wrongs.

DNR, written in blood red,

screamed from off

the charted page

of an empty file.

Life support was removed

and helplessly I stood,


until the life drained,

last breath was drawn

and all that remained,

was white-sheeted regret.


No mourners,

save for myself,

cared to view or grieve,

or even offer comfort

to this bereaved soul.

I sat alone,

in a high-backed,

burgundy upholstered chair,

while somber music

wafted past my ears

and parlor scents

permeated my senses.

I eulogized out loud,

speaking of wasted time,

unmet goals,

but my words only echoed back,

in the hollowness

of vacant chairs.


A lone mourner,

in single-filed procession,


I said my 'goodbye'


as a soft rain fell

in a mingling of tears.

Tossing one red rose

and a handful of soil,

I buried my dreams,

six feet below my hopes.

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