Untitled

Untitled.

The rogue, the aesthete
The diamond he chanced upon
The tip of the lance and the deathly trefoil
Fighting to belong

The one who reached acme
Banished to the floor
By the jealous king
Sitting above them all

The chosen few
The 52 held dear
The sad duo of jesters
Discarded even they too are here

This house of cards
Built high upon lies
Holding 54 hearts without love
Living only to hate and despise.

An interview with a care giver.

I’m a good person
You can tell by the work I do
It’s no secret to me
That I’m a better person than you

I help lots of people
At least I play the part
I help the disabled
And those who aren’t too smart

The money is a bonus
But it’s not my reason why
I can’t put a price on the feeling I get
When others pass me by

Oh, you’re a salesman
Well that’s sound just great
I’m a caring person
In fact I’ve bin caring this morning since eight

Today we’ve been painting
Well I have, they can’t do much
Most of them don’t really get it
They just sit around and watch

I love it when we go walking
We visit the local town
I always grab one in a chair
Because you can just push them round

It’s easy being caring
I don’t know why they moan
Or why they look so tired
When I drop them back at home

I’ve just given them all day
To clean the chaos behind their door
Why do some people find it so hard,
Why do they always ask for more?

I’m such a good person
I just want you to know
Remember to tell everyone
Ok, I'm bored now, you can go.

Better Tomorrow.

Waiting for tomorrow,
With the promise that it brings,
Waiting for the darkness to leave,
So the daylight can begin,

I sit and watch the sky,
Waiting for the dawn,
Where on sun kissed horizons,
Yesterday will be reborn,

Its not here to stay,
Just simply passing through,
Like a faded revolving backdrop,
To the story of me and you,

What started with such promise,
Slowly fades into dusk,
Another hopeless endeavour,
Like making gold from dirt and rust,

It seems tomorrow is not a new day,
Just a resetting of the screens,
Another act in which we fail to reach,
The heights of what could have been.