Getting up was hard,
and Nature nodded, too, at
me: “the sun forgot, too, so hid, it did
behind the clouds, mellow.”
The bell tolled, hard,
and I paused, marveled at
the skies so grey. Sang, it did
with breeze so dull, leaves flapped, hollow.
They sang, “ ‘twas treacherous, too hard,
and calloused. A fool laughed at
A star so far.” Think, I bid
my pen to write some verse, ever so hollow.
To cry, is pointless: ‘tis too hard
a task for one who sat
around in selfish lights, a bid
for those words become more hollow.
I tried, regardless, with no regard
of the hard, harsh wind. I sat
by the window to think, to bid
the breeze and dust goodbye, hollowed.