A shell

In the hollowed out center of my being,
I cry out for solace in the night time air
Fighting a rising tide of self to
Conflict with life and the path before me.

Waiting, watching, wondering, pleading…
Hoping for more bread to fill my gut to
Endeavor to waste than to want
To drink in the sun and cry out the moon

To reach for stars and to pull my hand back to find
Dust, everything turns to ash to float on the air
No care for the world or the affairs of the heart
To blindly plunder on, pillaging that raped landscape

Giving to the soil a most sacred seed to plant in that unfertile womb
Splashing my blood upon it to coax out the life within
Writing in agony as all drains away
Left as a withered shell with no one to tell the tale to.