Notes From Purgatory.

Faith? In what? Impossible
odds, bad tidings 'round
every turn,
Dead set to watch me
burn.

Own up, but they won't,
though decisions don't make
themselves,
Turned the other way, cut
it up, place it on different
shelves.

Collecting dust, so they
can move on, in limbo
sitting still,
No forward, no backward,
just tears, fears, and a
useless amount of
will.

No way out but through
the dark,
Stark raving, but together
somewhere,
This bite is worse than its'
bark.

Heart to heart, torn apart
by left over things that
should not have been,
Tear it out, cut it up, but
it digs deeper within.

Worthless, helpless, just
help, but the words do
not form,
None forthcoming, left
alone to brave that
storm...

-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
1/26/2013