Michael Fitzroy

Broken Fragments of a twisted mind
Mostly dark with extremes of sad
Her journeys end is never reached
The vortex of time, her only road
...

Since the rhyme of the ancient mariner
To the assassination of Moby Dick
Nought has man's heart, ever given the sea
A waging of war, with and aquatic foe
...

The peace is broken by silence loud
A reveller which has fallen foul
This time not, for breaking law
But swallowed up by city night
...

Whirlwinds of time
Sweeping through the valley's of life
The downpours of good
With storms of bad
...

Fingers of a thousand emotions
Grasping, entwined
Like some twisted fate
A turmoil of thoughts
...

Like the prey of an arachnid
Deceitfully lured
Into a web of lies
With prolonged pain
...

Reflections, releasing a tempting mirage
A mystical form, of beauty and pain
A burning of passion, oh I desire
A journey of fulfilment, undescribed
...