Our Sinking Grave

The mirror's cold reflection, paints a monster without face
Eyes sullen and glazed, tired and broken of this race

The meaning and the madness, hold fast these agonized dreams
A different deadness, an emptiness beyond human means

Yet it's quite normal, it's certainly quite insane
And faint is the difference, between pleasure and pain

Empty, cold faces, with worm-eaten eyes
Smiling lips, poorly camouflaging dying cries

Tear stained faces, moth eaten glares
Beating hearts sputter, beneath empty stares

Youth burns away, leaving the husk of old age
The key in hand, but too tired to step out of the cage

The impending sting of death, no longer retains its dread
The fears fade to resolution, the concern is... dead

A reoccurring morning fades into another repeated night
Sleepless and tired beneath the glow of the street lamps light

Dreams without imagination, a savior who cannot save
Fearless and empty, slipping deeper into Our Sinking Grave.


Poetry