Day 9 of the review – and a poem about ‘too much’
photo credit: Standing at the Gates of Hell via photopin(license)
I can’t see you,
Just the echoes
Where you used to be.
Because I’m a lost boy
Confused about the direction,
Whether I’m heading
For heaven or hell.
For I stopped feeling
When I started bleeding
Many moons ago.
And all that’s left
Is half a bottle of whiskey
And these scars
That keep my eyes shut,
I’m down on my knees
Begging for redemption
Knowing the game is up.
For there is just an absence
A black hole in the aether
And the echoes
Where you used to be.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 