In search of words to move a soul
I find a bloody gaping hole.
In search of verse to exorcise
My muse from bed refused to rise
I wish to find a dirge that shakes
A stanza phrase that boldly wakes
That opens eyes, and confronts lies
But every single effort dies.
There are no words to heal this thing
No lines to pen, no notes to sing.
For while the demon sits between
There are no humans to be seen.
So I will do what English men
Were taught to do from age of ten
To sigh, in knowing all is gone
And gently put the kettle on