I am the nothing,
Of the nowhere town,
Ground down and born by haters,
Will to cherish my true love,
Will to save but still I drown in doubt,
Fighting for air,
I go under,
A colour out of space
I die the unloved and never cherished,
But do I need to?
A chronicle of a soul twisted by fate,
An animal of pride,
Wasting from hunger and malnourishment of the mind,
Maybe a strange mercy I suffer?
As a rhyme and reason I shake,
What and where is thy true self?
My Hatred buried for Aeons, fossilised, but now excavated,
An abstraction of a portrait of my own self,
A pierced skin of the White hot rapier of others narrow minded sadness and loathing,
The Decrepitude I feel,
They act as paupers, but live as emperors,
Who judge and hang me for no crime,
I explore, sail this ship alone
A line I cast,
A tropic I cross between dark past times
and enlightened future horizon.
Ian V. Seymour ©2011