Cold rusted things
As cold rusted things turn inside my brain,
As ancient cogs, soaked beneath the rain
Cold and clear snowflakes drifting through the darkened sky.
My vengeful raven crows, with wings that will never fly.
Through a foggy haze emerges,
Ashen fires bringing scourges,
A fight between two tiny giants,
Or between two giant gnats.
A raging fire, my emotions liquid fuel,
A terrible light at the end of a long tunnel.
As shifty and treacherous as tectonic plates,
Anger, disappointment, treachery,
something else must be the key.
I’m losing every single time,
While keeping the rhythm and the rhyme.
Lost in fog, and hazy skies,
Scissors severing bonds and ties
Ashen fury burning all
Preceded by the raven’s call.
All for bitterness and anger:
I regret it not at all.