Unfulfilled

Unfulfilled

In a paltry manner using vulgar words,

A stranger sits brandishing slurs near a curb.

Wasted time and buried aspirations,

They curse them both without hesitation.

Life’s summertime with glistening stars,

Suggests times of ambition but also of scars.

But be gone with you and your fictitious recanting,

Of shallow love that’s dead no longer enchanting.

Let me be bitter, be gone with you now,

And on burnt parchment find my scowl.

For it is better to write of the death,

Than bring to fruition or take its breath.

On lofty darkened wings hope doth sit,

Beleaguered and torn a bloodless wit.

Having given all that was to the ungrateful,

Leaving the giver empty and unstable.

Tarnished memories, toneless melodies,

Echoes endlessly offer no remedies.

Be gone with you you who offend,

Let me surrender to whatever be my end.