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Ferocious mini-mongols
Topple my waning empire
Soggy dreams of nonsense
Dripping, can’t catch fire
Blinded eyes, hear the scream
Enlightened words, swell the dream
Cankered sores, leprous pain
Sense the brain become insane.
Sucking swill, peace be still
Lie in wait for my fate
Scattered pins across my mind
When I seek what will I find?
Scared to life, a deadly threat
Cast my lot. place my bet
Woven within the tapestry
A golden thread of what is me
Yet frightened to lose my sense of will
Listening for comfort, bombarded by shrill
Colossal failure, limited success
Cleaning the cup, leaving a mess
Precious is not the price, you see
But rather, the cost in evolving me.
Published by Jonathan Cring
Written by Jonathan Cring
7 years ago 
