I'll fail to whisper

A Poem by Earl Meek

I'll just stay and lock the path.
I'll just lie in fading warmth.
I'll be dead, as cold and grey,
as the sullen eyes that cast such doubt.
I'll fail to whisper without hope,
I'll turn and rend the mirror flesh.
In mist and strain I'll feel my way,
a sloth and lion that can't betray.

Look to finer, lock to mud.
Underneath a hand held thorn.
Submerged in rattled chains of hurt,
the blanket drapes before it falls.
Saddest missing emotions dulled
in parted touch I ride this storm.
Hark a black cloud crawls across,
then vanishes of mind, of most.

For I'll fail to whisper without hope.
Broken mirror flesh, the ghost.