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pebbles of hope   3-6-2014



black thoughts
inner brands of
vitriol rot him
from the inside out

demonic companions
tear at his heart
why am I made
of mere nothings

nothing
has come to pass
nothing
where do I go
nothing
nothing
nothing

an injurious brain
an echo through
the canyons of his mind
looking into himself
he does not treasure what
he finds

self-loathing is the gift
that continually gives
why not
winnow the facts of himself
through a different sieve

if he would see the
keenly
accomplished
man
would the voices quiet themselves

would he find the pebbles
of hope
sifting through
the sand
in his hands


Copyright March 6, 2014
ALL rights reserved by this author
Meloo Melissa A Howells
site: Tilt-a-World

sending these last thoughts
like prayers on the wind
 





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