Frosted Pains
Location
I listen but hear nothing
What I hear does not exist
ticking of a heartbeat
a system about to split
Encased in wicker, am I not?
Feigned memories are nigh
want to go back when I had ambition
back to a time neither old nor tried
Sitting alone in black and white
My friend: the frosted pane
Deterioration is my plight
a mind just never to be right
So the elm once spoke to the lark
“Why must you fly when you could be rooted?”
“Because each wing beat, a new breath,
why, I do not fear forthcoming death.”
Yet I will not die with my own thoughts
staring toward the new day,
the good day
when nothing is not.