white room

The White Room

The dalliance of prancing, dancing youth
The Reality that masks the greatest truth
The ladder of thorns and wired barb,
That ends in the tree tops' White Room
Trapped in the grasp, clasp, last gasp of breath,
The sky is slate gray, flay the skin clay;
Hopeless to look back now,
Too much time has passed
Between birth and death.

The valiance of commissioned, conditioned rats
The terror from leeches and vampire bats
The cellar steps, rotten and old,
That end in a lightless folly
The web caught fly will die: the last goodbye?
Hell in bloom, the loom, impending doom;
Pointless to seek an exit;
Best chances now have passed
Between you and I.

The alliance of scattered, shattered foes
The repentance of rogues in their death throes
The rathole of stench and futile garb
That ends in the deep roots' chambers
Entombed in the deep, Keep; a muted weep?
The room white road, strewn with dead souls,
Wasting to struggle
Against a new dawn,
Between pain and sleep.

© Severn Dwyer. 2007

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