marching waste

what cost do you face
coming to conclusions
of yesteryears choices
to falter in the end

is there worth to you now
after the trades of time
while gold rusts away
in your old hands

no retreat from the future
living in the present fear
overcoming lackluster lows
to the mirror of reality

stick close to the skin
as bones shake underneath


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: