Memories I've stowed away
for in a life of misery
they are the ones that steal my sleep
Nocturnity, a curse of dark
where any shaft of light
washes me with painful first degree burns
Whether it comes forth
as Madeline
and her tiny hand in mine
Or christmas eve
with snow on the ground
wondering what will be under the tree
They were so few and far between
isolated as fallen stars in the sea
There comes a point in our withering
sustenance appears now as mere cruelty
so hard now to find pleasant memories
suffering has become sterility
pandoras box waits, but is locked tightly
blindly I call for the one with a key
Until they arrive I will lay
on dark, wet stone
and try to find stoicism
in this grave so cold
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