A poem by me
There are no eyes to my surprise, that can stare into my madness
that spin the wheel, that feeds the thrill, that empties into sadness
no fiery smile, or worthwhile trial, that calculates destruction
that blocks the way, to joyful days cast free of all obstructions
no breathren saint, nor bent nor straight to nail the lid of silence
to shroud the light of starry nights and cover all the brightness
no words so true, that will never do to speak my heart to rest
a map of sky, that never died enduring through the test
no lips to kiss, or even miss that shovels dirt upon me
no fair goodbye within her eyes, if only she could love me