Defeat

subdued, it's nothing new.

I know I have no place,

No face, no point, no gain.

I know this bitter taste

Of races run with shame.

I know when all is said and done

I am the one to blame,

But maybe I am tired of

The lonely drops of rain

That refuse to pool within the cool

Puddles of the ‘sane’.

Maybe it’s time to assimilate

My fate within these walls,

Maybe the lines

Of chalked out crimes

Is all that’s left to call

Reality, it's fighting me

I can’t fight it any longer

Than the sun can fight the night,

I can’t reason when I ponder

The inexplicability

Of souls lost to squander.

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

Puddles of the ‘sane’. Good write.

[Siddhartha]

Of races run in shame
Against hardy thoughts
Accoutred in souls of the lame
But then it is nothing new
So many voices
Thoughts so few...

[Chris Smith Welshpoetcs]

You may lose a battle, but you never lose the war my friend.

[Ed Hart]

don't worry about the other souls...you take care of them by taking care of your own...give your head a rest