The Death of all Things

How quickly I lost my step,
and fell,
into this abyssal ravine,
of filtering lights;
Dark and mysterious,
my blood trickles,
mixing in with infinite peace;
A small wound,
is casuing so much hurt,
I am barely breathing;
I am lying there,
knee deep,
in an assortment of broken strings;
Friendless and alone,
listening to my heartbeats slowing,
And your Gods, they forage my body,
or I would be left believing…they think…
These ghosts swindle me,
of my dreams…or what is left of them…
My poetry too is fading,
slipping away…I see it go…word for word…
I am helpless and empty handed,
in the end,
I carry nothing.

© soulreserve 2015

(For the poetryriot prompt ‘Knee Deep’)

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