I sit here.
The baying of dogs is my only comfort.
The chirping of crickets my only song.
She has left her throne.
Stepped out and never came back.
The guards have locked the doors.
They won’t let anyone in.
I am all here alone.
My battle wounds bleed.
Blood flows on the floor and fills the cracks.
My heart like a jigsaw puzzle.
She opened one bit and walked out.
Now cold wind blows in.
Pneumonia of the soul.
I can’t get no healing.
The wounds close and open as fresh.
The fire and passion that would cauterize them is dead.
My writing skills are gone.
My love for art now so bland.
I can hear the looting in the streets.
The roar of the crowds.
They are coming to take me.
They already slayed my queen.
I want to follow her into the dark.
With no candle to light my dark path.
Life, such a heartless master.
Taken my face and added wrinkles.
Taken my voice and reduced it to a croak.
Taken my hand and left a stump.
Taken my heart and left a black hole.
Taken my love away from me.
Wicked time.
You corrupt the soul and the mind.
You feed off whatever you can find.
Now you have taken my all.
I hope you are happy.
I hope you dance yourself to the grave.
You have taken my queen and my city.
You have taken my will to fight.
I hope to rise one day.
Even if it is from the dead.
Time, I shall beat you one day.
But for now I bleed out.
I sit here.

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