Alone for all eternity,
I’m bound and banished
to this place of squalor,
in cold and storms
and through the lonely nights
as the wind screams clear
across the dampened moors
with nothing to stop it.
This wasted land is now my penance,
It is an empty openness,
the kind I once roamed,
young and naïve,
when I thought I knew what it was to live —
to be —
when I thought I had everything right.
I’ve discovered only now
the depth of my mistakes.
that life has flown
like leaves upon the wind,
taking with it all freedom,
only now have I begun to understand
what life was supposed to be,
supposed to mean,
what everyone had tried to tell me
Now I see that I never lived with grace
nor honesty, nor truth.
I wandered these lands
spouting empty words,
pretending to be a leader of men
and a messenger of life,
thinking I was a Great One;
dreams of grandeur, misplaced.
I thought they – you – wanted to hear,
I thought I had something to share,
but I led us all astray.
Beware those signposts in the gloom;
It was I who painted them
for all to follow,
dripping falsehoods across faces,
I am left with nothing,
but an existence as faded as those signs;
empty words in aninfinite, empty land.
Let that be a lesson to you.
This wasn’t what I set out to write for this first week at the brand new Grammar Ghoul Press, but my somewhat preoccupied mind spewed it out this morning and refused to let it go.
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