Cinders Of A Lost Life Poem by Timothy Weiermann

Nerves burnt to the point of no healing
The light slowly fades from dull black eyes
Nerves scorched to no feeling
Watch as all the surrounding life dies
Slowly raging as inner turmoil tears minds apart
Shredded thoughts slit from anchors weighted of thought

Scorched minds, cinders left of a personality
Living slightly, deathly, no longer lavishly
Deprived of its needed nourishment it withers
Withers unto smoke rises from the scattered ashes,
Scattered ashes of a once lively idea
The un-cried tears stinging those capable of them

Smoke slowly drifting until it mixes,
Mixes with a mess of blood and sluggish lives

No longer worthy of a host body we are stripped
Stripped of our humanity until only the bare,
The vulnerable flesh remains
No longer capable of ailments or pains
In tempest infernos little survives
The bare essence of a worthless life is denied,
Denied even a host in which to grieve

No grieving we are left to harden,
Harden until the remains of what we were erodes
It erodes and begins the cycle of the cinders of a lost life