Dead leaves give way under my feet, the cold air
Pulls at my soft, warm lungs
As if trying to give birth to violent tyranny.

There is death here.
A frigid sunset laid to rest
On gray, heavy clouds. It neither weeps
Nor mourns. But
It breathes-
Broken gasps of profanity and helplessness.

It’s freezing here…

Stars appear
One by one
In falsely illuminated brilliance. Moonlight.
You’ve been told they are suns,
Burning
Creating light from within. Lies.
All energy is reflected.

Bitter.

Cold.
Lies at the end.

©Jen2011 12-17