Here I'll Grow Old

 

I sit alone. Half my face in the light.

Silence is golden. In it I write.

Carving up beauty from letters of might.

Lost in the lines. Is it day? Is it night?

            Fingers all swollen. Time with no end.

            Carving up tales on my sleek, contoured friend.

            Clickety-clack by keyboarded light.

            Lost in my mind. Is it day? Is it night?

Words that say vengeance. Silence is gold.

Words deeming heroes. Here I’ll grow old.

Pouring out symphonies. Molding the bends.

Time is forgotten. Time with no end.

            Creating sus-

            pension. Suspended on strings.

            I choose who falls. Who gets his wings.

            Silence is golden. Here I’ll grow old.

            Weaving my tales of the dead. Of the bold.

They think I suffer, but suffer they will.

If they don’t find love that I hold tight still.

I work in magic. Choose when love pings.

I choose who falls. Choose when death rings.

            Half in the light. Half of me hidden.

            Who will die? Who will bite fruit that’s forbidden?

            For me to decide. My nails caked with clay.

            Carving out fantasies day after day.

Suspended on strings. Held in my hands.

My mind and my fingers. A one person band.

For me to decide. Day after day.

A flick of my wrist. True love’s flown away.

            Feed off the fumes from the job that I hold.

            Drapes drawn but future is always in sight.

            Silence is golden. Here I’ll grow old.

            Feeding the worthy ones into the light.

            

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