You ever hear the thunder’s roll,
From underfoot, not way up high?
The howling silence – hunter’s call,
This knowing sound; his prey will die,
By his hand alone.
You might have felt a winter’s cold,
Duration of a fear untold,
A quickened heartbeat – tale untold,
The waiting game, your heart dethroned,
By your own hand unsown.
Have you passed death’s corridor?
A breath away, new emptiness,
Been crawling nearer – fury’s floor,
Found drowning hard in pain’s shallowness,
To all their eyes unknown.
A quiver still, just as you thought,
The undertow as fighting ground,
A constant aching, left distraught,
Your frozen pulse – no turning round,
A heart here aches alone.
Now I can’t see the rolling flame,
Can’t derive this burning shame,
I see the meanings in your lie,
Still won’t believe these tears you’ve cried,
I bear this name; Alone.
© Copyright 2016 RipTorn. All rights reserved.
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