Whispering Instances Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

This
injustice
of merciless
despair, within
my soul; is beyond
your reach. Darkness is
forever crawling inside, of
my thought's deepest abyss, as
within my essence, are those trolling
whispers calling out to that instance perched
upon millions of unbreachable walls and in all of
my dreaming moments, both life and the sun
have set; as if death held sway within all
conscience and content. In my mind
within its deepest context, exists
a tall, and dark companion
one of an odd lot. Could
this be your heart? One of
loves, dreams, and angels; or
will I continue living in the madness
of so many whispering instances?