Presence [Not Found]

Presence [Not Found]

written by: Tristan

 

Tormented by memories of my own design,
I’m trying, digging, searching for a key,
In a harrowing game set in stone by the crime,
Looking for a way out of this nightmare scene,
I face all my fears, all my struggles, all tied,
With knots of my own design and Demise,
Blood may be left from my murderous spree,
Memories left to bleed out on corpse debris.
The broken record no better than its cacophony,
Devastate does the history that darkness indites,
The taut harp no better than its symphony,
Loom does the mystery that, in spite, incites,
atrophied chords telling tales as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme, while ruined in rhythm,
Hail at heart strings and rain solemn dread
Through which windows to false freedom are bade,

Forever in favour of a fate long past,
In search of the sunset
Whose false light lays in the shadow cast,
Where yesterday and tomorrow met,
Yet it be not for the beauty of now,
So much as beg question for how
There be Absence of presence of true time
Wherein that true time is the present.
Clock Towers of habit chiming to change,
Unrelenting beams of focus to fade,
Silhouettes that should demonstrate the actuality of pain
Imprinted as blood down canvas plains,
Mind you such solutions, silent as snow,
Leave chance for recovery in footsteps behind,
Blunt force blows blasted ages ago,
Relived in a recurring moment in mind,

But at last sings the wind of longed sweet relief,
Yet truth be told and all absent minds know,
It be not so sweet as bitter for those left in grief,
Perhaps next time, a sooner death to false fate’s design,
You get what you give and you reap what you sow.