Roaming the ends of existence lost in the realms of your mind
Through hollow walls and empty stalls,
Pulled down by the sands of time
Across a crowded room I was standing handing fools another twisted line
From an empty chair I direct my stare,
To the halls of my own despair
Diseased by the deceased I increased, the thought of going nowhere
Surrounded the thought compounded,
The scream I dreamed would never scare
From a shell I dispel, corrupt and un-tell the dreams of the un-lead around me
Pleading my allegiance to the legions of suspicions to the unread, unsaid, unfed
The winds they will come and they'll reach for the gun,
and silence will fall from my head
So think of me not as you hear the first shot,
though gently I drop I'm clear in the thought,
That my soul rises freely above me
So what of us now as we gather the sounds
of the cries of the dying around us
Do we look in the eyes of the stranger's disguise?
And remember he was once you?
When time moves us on, our land will be gone,
In memory of the one who is you.
©️ Copyright Graham Marshall ©️ #poem only