Disillusioned
Planning is futile and devoid of surprise But no plan is perfect And perfection is rarely seen Complete and utter failure keeps appearing Smashing all Resolving a ray of resonating light, to splinters From a whole holiday to a stumbling farce in moments Burnt to a wavering cinder Solid until touched Then nothing except a grey film falling to earth Staining fingers Leaving an unseen trace to poison at will, with a vengeance So come what may it shall not quiver Or fade inside and remain hidden Our demons don’t die They re-surface, burning for the long fall Till eternity Lurking within shadows they strike and reap their reward In the end it always falls to pieces The course of action is severed Without a trance of reason While those in its wake are reduced to spectres Gaunt faced Roaming a landscape of stained whites, Decayed greys And overpowering darkness Written October 24th, 2001 © on Oct 24 2001 02:06 PM PST 0 • 1
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"Planning is futile and devoid of surprise..."