I see wreckage on the horizon.
These are remnants of what used to be.
Upon closer inspection.
Proves there is only debris left for me.
With ghosts for friends.
I stay mute in a corner.
Pictures race around my head resulting in disaster.
Pulled from sweet memories.
Dragged across coals that’ll sear skin.
Menace lurks in shadows.
Resulting in nothing that can change a thing.
Loner on a trail.
Sick of how I fail.
Yanked from my home and spinning to oblivion.
Push these commandments onto all.
We are begging to be the ones who fall.
For if we flounder then you sink.
Mutually assured destruction is to what we drink.
With a heart full of pain,
Circling this drain.
Wait for the wave,
To send us to our well deserved grave!
Victims have made a stand.
Endure your own pious brand.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 