If I should cease tomorrow
would it matter, all that I have achieved
is but dust waiting to fall from my hands,
to shed loose from my skin, the words
lost in Time, nothing ever truly resembles success
for in the end, life,
is the mirror’s illusion, the offering to resign
before the shit gets wiped in your face
from those who have forgotten you.
I should have stayed in the dark,
waiting for you to carry me home,
for in you, at least, there is no despair.
Ian D. Hall 2016