Rest In Peace.

Moon rise, under clouds of worry,

with turmoil twinkling overhead.
the nighttime brings a
discontent.
A dark so deep
it fills my head.

Every twilight carries a brand new fear.
As the sun sets, my heart
ties up in knots.
Wondering if any ever thought
it dear,
then wondering at such dismal thoughts!

Oh where is the morning that I so love?
To banish this
mourning
that I so dread.
Every night it afflicts me,
until I sleep.
I pray for the rest wished upon
the dead.

A Song of Self Inflicted Woe.

I always feel the outsider. The forgotten one among such stars. I can never seem to shine as brightly,

abide in acceptance,

as they are.

My pondering heart oft wonders if it’s only self-inflicted woe, this misery and loneliness escapable,

if truly so.

Perhaps, if studied deeper I could find a sanguine smile somewhere, and then quit reaching for the stars,

in finding I was always there.