Is This It? Poem by Derrick Andrews

Is This It?



Anguish bubbles to the surface, air escaping the lungs of a drowning man,
Hidden to all but his own sorrow..
Fate had proved its malice, and demolished his plan,
There is no hope for today or tomorrow,
Only torment and pain rise to the surface and fly,
Gliding upon the gently fierce lick of the flame,
Upon the heat it accelerates, into the sky,
To reach an unfathomable point with no name,
The gallant, beaming sun is the goal, the bell.
To ring at the dawn of your shining hour,
Is all but inevitable, time will tell,
Against the Grim Reaper, we have no power,
Our only dark option, is to brood in hell.

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