With dusty tears, his eyes choke.
Leaving memories to the distant past
Where the sun never seems to shine,
It is here he loses grip on reality.
He cries what he can, and collapses.
What good are empty passages
From a book he has never truly believed,
Such is the folly of desperate man.
Having searched the world of luck,
He finds himself in the hollow of misfortune
Scratching like a raven in the midst of shadows.
For what is destiny if you're so sure it's lost?
He confessed his sins to absent ghosts
Hoping that his soul might be saved
By the presence of One he so often questioned.
To this we ask ourselves-
