Fabrication

Jun 15

Zebras don’t change their stripes for a reason

Year by year it is only the tiger,

Xenia exhibited only to succumb to

Worry and defeat.

Violet petals dance in their wake

Unsure yet excited feeling

Tied down to an idea but there’s no

Substance to a candle wick

Running out of time the

Quilt remains unfinished stitched in

Past days without any threads

Over and under it is woven again.

Nervous yet full of pride the candle is still,

Mourning the wick that has dripped down never to

Love again and almost being lackluster.

Kicked down in the dirt the flame is

Jailed in a prison of its own mind,

Illusions of grandeur lead purely into delusions.

Hanging on by a thread is this the end?

Gravestones marked with an x it’s all a

Fabricated bedtime story.

Eagle eyed and eager yet unwilling to

Decide upon the line being traced

Catch the thread it slips away to

Be buried for just another day

Abandoned without a second thought because I can’t trace the line between me and you.

Under the Earth