Thoughtful serenades fill an empty room

no one looking just the me and mine.

He wonders if it is always such gloom

or are we left without our favorite wine.

~

Seems the cadence of our party restrained

by motive, by aspiration, by silent neglect.

When race horses begin, know what is gained

yet miss a step and it is a horror so perfect.

~

Want to tell all the voices to leave my head alone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

can’t stand the berated tone.

~

The next time he stood alone at the precipice

He wished some sort of respite from his world.

Everything he had seemed suddenly at risk

He thought again and then his mind he twirled.

~

can’t stand the berated tone

out of my head haunting clone

out of my head haunting clone

---

© Thom Amundsen 9/2021