THE PRIEST POINTED OUT
Grey clouds threaten to enshroud me,
In a cloak of dullness.
Smothering me in mediocrity,
Sliding down into respectability,
Pressing me down under the weight of youthful dreams lost.
I claw my way towards the surface,
Fighting through layers of crushed ideals,
Struggling for breath in the humidity,
The oppressive atmosphere forces me down.
Face down in the dirt,
Eating my own shit.
I cry out for help,
Trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Where no-one can hear,
Bar the shades of my own imagination.
They mock my plight,
Laugh at my despair,
Spit in my face.
I lie there in the faeces of forlorn hope,
Drowning in my own rancid juices.
I reach out to a flickering light,
Only to see it snuffed out,
With my dying breath.