A Lonely Place for Dying

A Lonely Place for Dying

Written by Jonathan Henderson

January 31, 2014 @ 7:59 AM

If my life meant anything to you,

I'd surely shed a tear or two in joy.

You appear to have abandoned me:

My faith has run dry, and I shall

Always look begat with despair, for

My soul, tortured, has died at heart.

Once, she called upon my crazy heart,

But now she drives daggers through.

And I see I'm amid a lonely place, as

Dying never ceases to still my void.

A daily reminder to all who awaken

How the West was won upon her dawn.

And I see broken glass that surrounds:

The witch's brew must've overflown.

The day is done, the cold night is hot.

I am just a vagabond, a lingering sot.

Asleep, some say 'tis a lonely place

For dying, as the militia ahead seeks

Me, and I seek the light only darkness

Provides, to live my final freedom flying

To Heaven or Hell... but if I state to you

How I escape through, the lone manner

Is the Eternal Sleep across sandy seas

As the boiling day leads to a cold night,

The militia shall capture me once at day,

And thrice upon a seven year's hell's itch.

Jonathan Henderson

dagan81@aol.com

Sent from my Sprint phone