Oblivion

The charcoal clouds continue to mourn,

  knowing they’ll always be torn.

Lying upon the drenched ground,

  trying to hold onto the hope that surrounds.

Letting a fear drive in,

  never knowing what came within.

The fluttering feeling drives the day,

  seeing through the dismay.

The mundane oblivion around,

  will continue to sound.

Never knowing hope,

  it’ll be like an unknown trope.

There’s nothing to be found,

  they can only dream not to drown.

Drawing a pain that brings no gain,

  as it filters out through the drain.

The disturbances of the earth,

  will always tear down the hearth.

Feelings of regrets and shames,

  igniting the earth with flames.

Destruction surrounding,

  can bring no more to the pounding.

The emptiness within a person,

  can not be made to worsen.

The struggle of being strong,

  yet being incompetent in the long.

Graphite within the wood,

  can only be thought to bring good.

Yet the goodness can be broken,

  like a person awoken.

The apathetic despair evolves,

  but the longing hope revolves.

Pieces of the soft metal,

  begin to settle.

Like the irreparable hope,

  when a person has to cope.

The trivial actions,

  that will bring great satisfactions.

The strong ashen lead,

  can be broken like bread.

Desolate brittleness,

  mistaken nimbleness.

Solidity to insecurity,

  with unwanted pity.

To break or to be broken,

  like the unspoken.

To give up with little regret,

  with a heart set on the bet.