In my fortress of solitude,
broken concrete surrounds
Metal support beams and tile
splattered in lowly, yet lovely crimson
An interlude of sorts
to the homely narrative
that is my every waking moment
Mourning the loss of light ahead
Weeping in tender; night is dead
The constant drip
off a steel lip
It sits
It lifts spirits
It calms lyrics
It shatters grins; it
Loves to welcome
Loves to break
The weeping day
The deep dismay
How calm
the song
the balm used
in its throng
The maddened ramblings of
who is gone
-j.broadway