Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

East.

And then,
I looked,
to the east,
again…
hope to see,
a smiling face,
unique to,
just one,
beloved,
man…
what’s more,
I saw, fore:
the frown,
of madness,
instead…
it was, indeed,
the face,
sought out,
by me:
darkened by,
shades of red…
the flutter of wings,
the grace of such things,
as they tweet and fleet,
right through,
a hole in my head…