• clifton 33w


    Stretching out before me,
    The desert of contrition.
    A justice for the cold of heart,
    With all their bad decisions.
    No sun to scorch the tundra,
    Nor to bleach you from my mind.
    Only a fading, empty landscape,
    Where you leave all hope behind.
    Walking on before me,
    Those whose path I follow,
    For having wandered from my own,
    Into the waiting arms of sorrow.
    No landmarks, only dark horizons,
    No oasis to water down my pain.
    Only a shadow of a used to be,
    Turned to sand, by desert rain