Sorrow Learns To Cope

 Petulance has no place

in healing grace.

Sorrow,

in her state,

 sees death take a bow to Wit,

 well lived.

She leaves me asking how can I give,

when abuse steals charity

from my hard working hands?

Petulance is scheming in his head

 as Sorrow Learns To Cope, alone,

with unfamiliar emptiness.

Unfamiliar- here am I, in between

nonsense and a daydream

of what used to be.

A life I can no longer see.

So death bids a bitter hello again,

gifting me a second breath

while I watch the exhales

of another wave goodbye.

The Ruby Eyed Rat

In the static I see

The Ruby Eyed Rat

of second thought

and dreary regret.

Simplicity is the command

of confidence,

conviction to bind. 

Unwind only to find

her life run out.

Sitting on my shoulder

is her sweet memory,

the ghost of melancholy.

Creations of the mind

imagine up the worst.

While kingdoms are built around me,

all I can see is the dust and debris

of what used to be.

Sorrow, left to her slumber,

rests on her final farewell.