AMONG THE TOMBS

His advice to me was don’t self-medicate!
An empty soul bound in fetters yet,
Filled to the bursting at the seams
He roams free;tombs,graves-sordid companions.
‘I’m fine-you should get some help’ he said.
His advice to me was don’t self-medicate!
The setting sun casts its dull glow,
The stone sentries cast their eerie shadow on
The floor with leaves a-rustling.
Unfit for society or so it seems
Who can truly judge?
For he is outwardly what we all are inside;
We detest his rags for they mirror the poverty of our souls.
His advice to me was don’t self-medicate!
The dark and lonely world;fleeting shadows
The silence of the living,the ruckus of the dead.
A hint of recognition,fleeting as a wisp of smoke…..
His soul can know no terror
All his days,one long,long tale of horror!
A closed case. Hope dashed. A lesson in futility-
All help to be rendered
His advice to me was don’t self-medicate!
Bursting forth from the horizon-Apollos’ rays
Gallant as a million cavalry men on swift horses
A chance? A change?

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