The Check Point

Faul, 

I let down, 

as this spark of mine, wares off, 

And instead of anything but, 

I wait for it all to be done with. 

Walking away, 

I turn my back now, 

Even to myself; 

She is dead.

Currently. 

At least in mind, and soul- the god-blessed body taking too long to follow suit; damned indeed, 

I know Hell, all too well; damned indeed. 

Every worth is questioned, 

Parallel to a developing numb-cold 

Thing. 

All that is left, 

Is not much; 

My enemies know not what they have done, as I, and most others...

Meet our retribution through a karma fair. 

I, 

Must have been aweful 101, to deserve this. 

And my mind unwinds now. 

Rattles. 

Bellows in hollow shells. 

The land bleeds and I carry it's smell. 

One too many...

One too many. 

Took up...

What WAS her; 

One too many. 

But I wasn't crying wolf. 

I was begging and pleading for someone to take me out, to get me out, to rescue me from the prison of my hell. 

I wasn't crying wolf. 

I was just crying. 

And here I remain. 

My life meaning nothing, 

Against time. 

Or power. 

Maybe meaning EVERYTHING 

To someone. 

but I have failed deeply now. 

And I sit on the bench, looking at the present like a sunset. 

Faith maybe left; I won't deny that. 

But I can not feel it's magic where now, there lay a broken girl, 

Who speaks not much anymore...

More and more...

Growing silent...

From all her un-responded-to 

Screams.