Photo by Author
Here time suffocates
the light with rusty dust,
And a vile cobweb
of boredom clings
to the face of oblivion.
You are in the living room
Of a master of bygone years.
In a mothballed chest
Beneath a darkly polished lid
The shabby clothes are slowly rotting
And life hangs in your hand like a rag…
Once more, turning fate inside out,
You’re looking for the seams
of your past decisions
But can find only empty dead space
The decay of your accomplishments
Has spoiled your decrepit thoughts.
But you can’t hide
no matter what you wear
be it rich garment
or tattered rags.
You sleep,
covered by the flag of fear,
Here
in the pantry
of unfulfilled hopes.
About the Creator
Nik Hein
A sci-fi reader, writer and fan. If you like my stories, there's more here
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