I am a candle in the window
whose bright flame has
been forever extinguished.
Like dust in the wind
I am tossed about and
blown to places far away.
Like a blade of grass
swaying in the breeze
I am bent out of shape.
Upon a winding river
all of my hopes are
slowly washed away.
And like the birds at
night, I have lost my voice.
Donavon Scott Vinson