Blinded Sight

A slow string of guilt binds, cinching on minutes gone by. Insuring continued eyes full, of tears emptiness obliged to supply. Blunt scatterings of narratives fill my mind, leaving little room for logic. Deaths bitter sweet face grins, enticing departing thoughts to frolic. Another messy Monday reclines still, with lost ambition, alone and scared. Earnestly holding out my hand, with hope thus far spared. Where whispers move across growing thorns, and beauty becomes sight impaled, this be now through forever, my peaces lost in your love exhaled.