The Key Without
Snow dying before it falls
The same old air I breath within these walls
Empty trees beyond the window
Branches standing on end, fearing the earthly low.
Beaten paths tread upon by the weak and weary,
Solemn eyes under grey rain, left dank and dreary.
Resounding a repeated yesterday, utterly prone,
As my existence is deprived by a loan.
Running and playing
Cunning and staying
Within me my demeanour
And an undying retrieval of fruitless splendour.
Forever I am the resistance
Of the world's perpetual persistence.
Along with remaining members of a doubt,
Locked with and a key without.
Spiraling is my fervour as I am released,
Merely to feel as if I had become a beast-
In the trivial cast of societal structure,
Where to my eyes fellow eyes would puncture.
The curved breath is desolate and rife
Over the sea, plummeting the Reason for the strife:
Down, down, down-will my head fall down.
To bring my feet up again, merely to depart without a sound.