A ghost, a shell
A left over half-memory
of what – on earth – I might have been.
Burning bridges while I stride,
Leaving those around me,
Lest they, like me, find out too soon
Once again, a wager lost.
Trust placed in me – a darkened horse.
What crazy odds..
Could’ve stayed the course?
A dismal daytime dream, a ‘sort of never really knew him.’
And stranger still,
as all the while, he knew no bounds,
Open as a riptide, welcomed all and sundry
into that madhouse glass heart of his,
Fatal shore indeed…
Yet no one seemed to truly see
the struggle at the heart of me;
To yet remain and thwart the tide
of Fate, bloody Loki,
The game seems rigged.
So many cards still stacked by hands,
I no longer trust or even know.
Am tired. Of me, of all there is tonight.
Can’t turn around, the dye seems cast –
and still I cannot breathe.
No foothold ledge, no branch to clasp.
When tomorrow’s golden dawn,
slips already from my grasp.