Dirge for Optimism

dirge for optimism

This is where the dream was murdered, in some dank and scabby room,
The cheering, youthful entourage now echoes buried in the gloom;
Your faith in what was promised once in sagely spoken, hopeful memes
And others’ toxic words became the murderers who killed the dream.
The mirror, mould behind its glass, reveals lines and cracks that score
Your eyes, the only traces now that time has passed. And in the raw
And painful light that creeps between the curtains, far too short to fit
The window frame, you shave the stubble from your chin, devoid of wit
And argument to save the day. All hope is dead, and in its place,
Are pencil sketches of the plans you made, etched deeply in your face.


16 responses to “Dirge for Optimism

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