as lonesome as any soul can be

he misses the church bells
that used to ring out
the clanging notes drifted
over the sleepy town
encapsulating everything
in a winsome cacophony
where adventures sang loudly
in the fractured mind
of a bruise covered
little boy desperate
for any sort of escape
clinging tightly to
a worn lion insecurity blanket
as the bells tolled
before the trains rumbled
and the nightmare began
again and again without end

the birds aren’t singing
no happily trilling
as the dishwahser churns
in step with my guts
the coffee tastes bitter
an extra shake of reality
seeping deeply into the beans
the sky brightens over
a conflagration of souls
tossing and turning on
beds of crimson nails
as the dreams of church bells
and the hiss of hangers
lash out with every single
strained breath of panic
it all seems so vivid
snapshots of reality
in a false facade of hope

a lazy haze of malaise
the brave knight shivering
no more than a pathetic
fool filled with cowardice
seeking to cling to the fading
song he can not quite recall
needing drugs to camouflage
the truths so apparent
in the shimmering rays
dancing on the many waves
knowing no matter the
distances put between
the atlas of scars always
unfailingly show a direct
line to the home he watched
burned to cinders as he
sat idiotically thinking
this was as lonesome
as any soul could get

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