Out From The Mouth: Digit Two

Wherein lies,

    Freely given out crucial metaphors,Not to symbols of hope for me, For I live as on already dead. My dreams belong to you all, The living.

    Traded a thousand sleepless nights to transcribe my inner self  upon digital but forlorn of neglect forecast pages, Hidden under shadows of my sorrow scabs self inflicted scars, A dagger to skin haiku, Waved the wand of murky water grave death over my head as I burned the evidence. To be forgotten or accidentally utilized via unknown artist remembered quotations lingering over my every shackled in shadow line.

In earnest anticipation of,
Death