The Plight for Life

The groveling grave
she cries for me
she cries
she speaks my name in her sleep
upon a smut mired pillow
embroidered for me
embellished for me
 
The swindling swine
he lies for me
he lies
he tells the reaper it’s not my time
while concealing a dented and dingy halo
forged for me
fashioned for me
 

And wicked ways

come for me

they come

drawing me further from my castle

and down well worn paths

trounced by me

marked by me 

 

The ticking clock
it ticks for me
it ticks
with each tick evil gains its share
each passing day rusts the circlet
reserved for me
retained for me
 
The aged reaper
finally comes for me
he comes
To claim my castle on the horizon

with dried moats and frayed ropes
abandoned by me

neglected by me

A lifetime of regrets

rips at me

it rips

and I surrender all my human things

and don the rusted crown of an empty kingdom

destroyed by me

killed by me

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

Concise and strong.
I love the strength behind the pen here. You have stated that time ticks for you as it does for us all. The fusion of Angels and Soldiers is where I find that this poem brings so much meaning to the reader, especially me at this time.
A wonderful poem as always.