The Weight of Yesterday

A writers job is to tell the truth

And god? Where is the saving

Of restless children wandering the night

Each crest of the moon

Every silvery twinkle of light

Caught in the knife of murderers and robbers

Lonely in the darkness, until their prey

Alights into their web of deceit

And surrenders, despite of all their might

Lost in the melodious vapor of time

The siren-song crashes our ships of thought

We let our lives wallow and if not

For tomorrow

Many may never live through today

See me now as I am, a poor and tired poet

Who only sees the world for what it gives

I sit underneath the overpass with beggars

Who tell stories of sinister and regret

Where is this light of heaven?

Does it know how much we suffer in its rays

For though there is sun we cannot see

Though we breathe, we suffocate on the daily

Blood inching to reach our aging aorta

Crushed by the weight of yesterday

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