Day old butts sit in the tray
their embers long gone out
they don't look so attractive
when they're all bent, all gray
amongst the ash and decay
light like candles at the end of their wicks
wondering if
I can still carve out a niche
through my pessimistic view
cynicism is the only thing that grew
midnight smokes like life,
waiting for that red letter day.
Author notes
Good to be off the topics that seem to be recurring lately. I was getting tired of writing about the same thing.
Comments
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This is a very true write. Life comes and goes, passing by so many who dont seem to stop and look at the little things. Cynicism is what makes this world go round. Wonderful write. You brought the words together beautifully.
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Interesting analogy. Reminds of how brief life is...but then, if your life is just filled with getting burned, maybe it doesn't feel so brief after all. Okay, got myself confused and depressed now...
Awesome poem, by the way! -
like knowing I'll never becalled
like knowing they never will comprimise
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