Fields of Gray

Trembling on some fulcrum,
tipping back and forth
Hope diligently buckles down,
while despair is wailing away...

This existence is nothing more
than some spinning dance
between life and death,
A fragile beauty
in each precious moment,
such jaded breath...

Beneath this skin
ugly strands of self hate
attack and maim
such a pristine soul,
Lost in fields of gray...

 

Mathiasthom

written 1/2/08

Author's Note

3rd poem written with this word bank:

hope, despair, beauty, ugly, life, and death