More old poetry.

It's 11pm and, 9th espresso streaming through my veins, I still fail to concentrate on the storyboards which lay before me or, rather, lack thereof. Tonight's center of procrastination, my old blog. I decided to skim through and post another old poem from it so as to waste time. Wrote the underlying back in 2010. This is it:

I walked along this morning,
Behind the tanker of despair,
Where eventually it led me,
Down to its hideous layer.

One by one it will take us,
To this dark and gloomy place;
It will rob us of our feelings,
And scare us with its face.
It will leave us feeling empty,
Alone and without hope.

No one will ever find us,
Or throw us down a rope.


Not too fond of this one as it feels incomplete, but alas it is what it is.


Later,
V.