Exile
Lost among the remnants of a life not quite lived
beyond the notion of appearances that remain unfilled
in a quant, yet ruffled sense of fortitude
surrounded by images that flash by and create
that was once there..no more
Exiled from reality.
The white walls crawl with endless lines
of hope when it existed through twisted
and bound by an endless cord
that gently moves and bobs from sanity to
the insanity that caresses the corridors
of a place for those who are easily forgotten
exiled by hopelessness.
Once upon a time on the sullen streets of yore,
she had something that became nothingness
like the darkness that crept slowly into a soul
that was no more,
for pain dulled the senses and if you cannot feel
you can not cry out for injustices
that were undone, unsaid, unbelieved
by those who dared to cared
for the one who was exiled by all the tomorrows
never to be.
And now waiting impatiently for the dim light
to beckon dawn through the windowless room
that has become a self-implied wombs of sorts
and creates stories from the nothingness
of a lost life that spoke so soon and now silenced
and dulled by a loneliness that became implicit
she stares on at a ceiling counting the endless tiles
and knows that her exile is just the beginning
of the end that never stops or waits
in a hellish existence of naught.