Idle Writings

Posted on July 21, 2014 by tomas

Nothing special, nothing big,

A life just past its dawn, it is

Caught up in the chaos; strife

That plagues this world, us all

I can’t close my eyes,

fear of what lays behind

Pale orbs of mud brown

Stare blankly, ever more

The questions keep coming

What could I have done more?

I find myself haunted

By the red streaked face

*The poem has been crossed out several times, the parchment raised almost torn through with the force of the crossing lines*

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