In the wake of this storm
My ship crashes, then burns to ashes
Rendering my sinking words on the mind
Of a poet thats is grasping, for air as he
Dashes from the wreak of a dream, turn
To ruin, no olive branches offered from the beating of the cold words thrown by the ocean. only laughter from a mad man called destiny , or faith or something greater, only he's the joker and I'm batman, but i cant find a robin on this battle, that trembles like a volcano erupting fire. And at the end of the day theres no water nor fire only the anguish from desire ripping stitches from the blankets that through time i fought so long to acquire, comforters from the harshness of madness or liars.
And truly the witnesses of the unmaking of the maker of words trying so hard to inspire , truly flailing in despair from failing at the only job the ever mattered. Keeping a flame lit in a candle.
