From The Lab

Lost In Neverwhere

Must a hope always disappoint?
Must spirits constantly be down?
What do the dead do with those coins?
They serve no purpose underground;
And here I am, broken, annoyed,
With all these soulless folks around.

I grow weary through daily grinds,
Half-truths unseen, no wrong or right,
As I, a fossil of the times,
Am stuck within the tar of life,
Is my only worth in these lines,
Never observed by human sight?

My mind is lost amidst the pain,
The agony at any cost,
Where the mere effort of true strain,
Took its full toll upon my thoughts.
The mind's eye picture I had framed,
Was wrong, was gone, and all for naught.

Are artists born just to suffer?
Does tragedy the talent make?
Does every ounce of strength mustered
Leave the soul in a weakened state?
Do all your fears join and cluster
To scare you from your chosen fate?