austin moyer


Untitled.1


a small boy lost and broken, stuck to the rhymes of the past
his travels he looks back, twords the lost as he always has asked,
with life has left him dry, why has the world become so cold,
yet everyone seems to past him when he ends at last.

the black birds circle above the dead man,
feared the loneliness of the cold nights, yet,
like a Liane he served no function and his live only spans
believing in a world only you can.

a teen sat on his computer typing a convoluted poem
yet his mind was no jeroboam.
and his life left darken in an abyss, he was left to roam,
roam away from the farthest light in his room.

Darkness closes and swallows me
the cold air refuses to listion to my plea
yet the fires of chaos chases after,
and follows my path like a banshee after me.

i cast aside the emotions of my heart
my head begins to feel like its splitting apart.
yet on the inside i know its not true.
that i just need a restart

the first sign of battle and I'm ready to flee.
my body is more surging then the chaotic sea.
yet my mind is clear and true,
keeping me safe like the detainee.

Submitted: Monday, January 27, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 28, 2014
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

9: 41 pm, January 27th

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