Poetry

The Dawning of Despair


I rise with the morning light,
Killing darkness with an absent defeat,
An infant day of the funeral night,
Faded hopes battle to return,
With hopes of earnings yet to begin.

I rise with the morning sun,
Fiercely in the sapphire sky,
Unseen in the luxury of those around,
I stand in line with hundreds more,
The yearning of our soul prevails,
The land of the free,
And home of the brave,
Promised hope for those who made,
A lifetime of gallant struggles,
With bated breath and pining glances,
I stand with nascent hopes still.

The sunlight burning bright,
Fades as the door ahead closes,
I stand still with a dozen more,
Lost in the crowds of dissent,
The news proclaim exuberance,
On the resurgence of the American dream,
The phoenix returns and flies high,
They say with a counterfeit glory,
The pastel hopes of all around,
Sing a muted but existent story.

The sun fades away,
Drowned in a haze of twilight beauty,
Those of the workman hours,
Return into willing arms of the loved,
I tread along the crowded streets,
With stillborn dreams in my eyes,
I reach of into the arms of the loved,
Only to find emptiness and stifled cries,

In the Ashes of a withdrawn embrace,
And the dusts of a perpetual past,
I lay in crumbled shatters,
Dreading the dawning of despair.

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