deserted

The Deserted Pathway

The car starts to slow its pace,

 

Weaving down a trail with bumps in the ground,

 

A deserted path, hidden by trees, leading to nowhere.

 

The vehicle turns, twisting, scraping against hedges and bushes,

 

The car stops, the engine dies.

 

Outside, the sleet and rain splatter, the night wind wailing like a banshee.

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Lost to Sea

light a fire just to watch it burn
Sit across the street with empty hands
Behind a tree unnoticed, so it's not my turn 
I have infinite thoughts, but empty plans

Ending up only to be pretty hollow
Ideas only stay for portion of a second
Echoing through the empty walls. and then comes nothing
Diffusing into the air, to become a forgotten particle
and nothing comes to follow


To set the ominous breeze,
Over the most vibrant sea, that suddenly lost color
and the skies are now gone and dull
They paint the picture to not excite, but simply appease


To be trapped inside this now and empty void
With nothing but everything destroyed
To say that we are fine, and simply avoid
Now we sail, swift onto the large sea of contradictions
Too lost within, that we forget our own convictions
Letting loose the anchor of anxiety, and thus become the restrictions

 

But this is not the end,
A man aboard throws over his only friend
And a storm rolls in, and then our destination is not known
As realization becomes the new sun, and hearts are turned to stone
A daughter now deserted by her parents is overwhelmed in strife
She whimpers, but can not help wonder what makes up this sickly life
A world where people phase in, and phase out
and thoughts become ideas, and ideas become a shout
and how long does a day go on to stay out and last,
Before awesome expectations become invisible, straight into the past?

 

Will the ship find it's way to land, or sink in despair?
Great ideas no match for the roaring waves of Negativity and ignorance?
Those striving so long for a real sun, to only be in vain, deprived?
And those hopelessly waiting for relief, to be cruelly concealed, unaware?

 

The masterpiece of a book now weathered to nothing but scribbles
A great idea now hidden and destroyed by life's cruel riddles
Will the hands be strong at ease to create another inspiration?

Or will it fail to swim over the simplest waves and forget it's own foundation?