Quiet Desperation

"Men lead lives of quiet desperation"-thoreau

Days are lost, as drops in this ocean on a rainy morning.

Gone and lost, to become a part of something bigger.

Something bigger, not one person can comprehend.

Nor muster up the courage and begin to mend.

 

Just the tip of a sunrise visible now, offers a glowing.

Which begins to light up all our weary, yet smiling faces.

It’s hard to wake up, when you’re not sleeping.

No sleep, when left seeking shelter or dry land.

 

For Cold and wet are left the nights,

And these Fading lights create a fire under our senseless freights.

For it’s hard to cover up, when you’re caught deceiving.

Just like it’s tough to react when days lose their meaning..

Believing that this world won’t take you under,

As long as you run away.

 

Strung up and cast out with those throw back nights,

That Might just lead one to forget where they came from.

Plus where they’re heading.

Isn’t much of anywhere, anymore.

 

They hold not much of any care for what they can’t match,

Morning rays can’t hide what they lack.

Nor take them back to where their dreams began.

 

 For when we grow old and weary, then we will see more clearly,

Where it was we went wrong.

As an old country song they play a soft melody,

From one to another pressed down on their knees, kissing,

a foggy picture of those dreams that went missing.

 

Now, In the end, shows an extravagant cost,

For all of those lives that were lost.