Eyes Left To Stare
For so many things have been taken away home
That you have never thought to see with your two eyes
Since time has been and gone: Tears upon arid loam;
Windblown tracks scratched deep down, filled with blood, sweat, and flies,
Where all hope is lost to the Nine Hells of your dreams
And the cries of the vain amidst mind-numbing screams;
Where the goal you yearn for is the one out of reach,
And the things that you’ve lost—although you may beseech—
Are frittered away and torn from your grasp in pain
As you stumble across the dust of old remorse—
Mind the call and song of Death on his pale white horse—
Thinking to live quietly with all left to gain,
While the beat of the drum thunders our of thin air
And your soul is turned black, and you eyes left to stare.
