Treasure Island

Vincent Topp

(3 Feb 1973 / Radcliffe)

All Black Sunset


So I play the waiting game
No fresh surges struggling to free themselves
The karma isn’t calling me anymore
Mother nature’s in a strop.

Weighted down with the knowledge of stupidity
The dry river of loss
It’s plain to feel the emptiness
Just staring at an all black sunset.

I could see it in her eyes
The eyes that photograph the soul’s condition
She had the look of a defeatist
The look of a spent person
Made to swallow the bitter pill of life
We’re holding hands
Staring at an all black sunset.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 08, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 08, 2014

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Topic(s): life

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