Pessimist, I

In place of broken shiny things,

Of what could have been said,

To the ways they could have been done,

There lie excuses,

Of those who matter no more

To the ways they had been

Once before;

And in the bleakness of it all,

Of the wretchedness you get

From living too long,

On a throne seated in sleep,

You think:

Affection and sympathy, no,

They don’t come easy,

No more in the ways that count.

Advertisements

About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: