Selected by others, chosen by one
Delighting just several, cast aside gone
Caught in a spiral, falling far down
Reaching for far off elusive crown.
Fingers groping, catching naught
Exhausted after bloody war fought
Battered, broken, beaten, bled
Falling from stranger’s to stranger bed.
All in haze, eyes unadjusted
Awake again yet always flustered
Too much pride and too little sense
No chance left for penitence.
A shadow of a chance, failure of a dream
Disillusioned by people not as they seem
Such lies have cost the hope you had
The talent you lost will make others glad.
This was life, this was no game
Lonely funeral where no one came
A book of your life could read so dear
Instead its a eulogy for no one to hear.
© Kris Blackburn 03/03/13