Ultimate Bore

Silver linings and silence. Still dreaming.

Thoughts spring from intensity,

  visions given of propensity,

  existing in nervous density,

  of a mind so full of luck;

Another voice peers out,

  the whisper becomes a shout,

  even anger faces about,

  as the wise all walk away;

Sweet breezes now feel sinister,

  as clouds gather to minister,

  shroud my eyes from the finisher,

  I want to try again.

Nobody cries out loud anymore,

  when even condolence causes war,

  placing flowers on the ultimate bore,

  the dream for one is over.