It’s not the rain upon the window,
Nor the chill that fills the air,
Not the solemn bell that rings,
The world that goes on without a care…
It’s not the deck that has been marked,
Not the rug that has been pulled,
Not the evidence expunged,
Nor the dreams that were all culled…
It’s not the unrealised expectations,
Not the bow that broke,
Nor the fall that did ensue,
Not the knife poised to cut the throat…
It is the breath stolen from within the body,
The hope killed right before our eyes,
The wanton savagery of life,
The fact hate comes as no surprise…
It is the joyous toll of soothsayers
As they tell us they were right,
Love unrequited will leave us once for all,
Plunging us into the deepest, darkest night.
Written by Tracey Odessa Kane 21 October 2017 ©.
Taken from the collection ‘Works in Progress’
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