Cold Death (day 459)

The day I awake
Doors wide open
I am clean today
Unwritten lies

Singer of sadness
Cries out the poems
Widow of worry
Cries out the tears

Blue moons are calling
Setting deep within
Old ambitious man
Left to be cold

The ground is hard now
Under these feet
Sadly they swagger
In death unknown

Whispered On Breezes (day 411)

And why did I cry those symphonies of sadness
Gloating in my fear of change and misunderstanding
Shivering in my woven cottons, thick with dew

And why did I turn on the sad songs late at night
Darker than the dreams threaded upon the weary roads
Wilder than the rivers yet to be crossed

And why did I put out the white flag, tattered in the wind
Sickening the neighbors with fear and dread
Inviting the armies to beat down and rape

And why did I walk the street that had no name
Windy and uneven, thin and unkept, silent and poorly lit
With hands deep inside the pockets that had no bottom

It’s the answers I hear whispered on breezes late at night