Walkin on Air
Scents of future failure permeate
every pore of my tortured soul,
test and trial threats exacerbate
with unspeakable treason foul
the betrayal of my faith.
As a child I laid me down to sleep,
comfy, tucked in fluffy swaddle,
layers of prayers my heart would keep
at arms-length from lip-service twaddle
pious dumb-waiters serve.
Life's pendulum has swung, swansong's sung,
cynical finger-pointing fails;
incredulity counts but as dung:
I plunge in death's vortex, my head flails,
numb on life's bed of nails!
by Oraculus on September 23, 2015. © All rights reserved