Gravity pulls with unencumbered violence,
And clamps you tightly like fern leaves in a book
Between the pages of unrepentant silence
Like lesser heroes that history forsook.
You’ve held your breath for far too many years
And preached to shells the ravings of a blind,
You’ve smothered shelves with far too many tears
And so when seen – your mirror looks unkind.
Its light just bends and shivers into dark
Conjuring cracks one shimmer at a time,
There’s nothing left, no sliver of a spark
All but the plastered tar – the tombstone of a crime.
TheThoughtsOfNeaGrigore 