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The Crutch


ThePoet

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Angry. The crutch makes me cranky: too much and too many.

The rush when enough isn't any.

I've got me a goblin; it cost me the candy.

This plan has been compromised, often and amply.

My mind is arcane and archaic; my brain is a plague.

This page has the space of a stage

And I've played. If it ain't for the aches of my age,

I'd have strayed, but I've stayed with the stain of the strange.

I'm brave but I break. I wake and I waver.

I've wasted my days between lazy and labour.

This fire is a lake but the tide rises later.

I've tried to rewind it but time is a traitor.

The minor; the major. The alpha; omega.

A curse on your house and a birth in your manger.

I've searched for the words, for the taste; just a flavour.

We're made to be more than a graveyard.

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