The Fray of Despair

The disenchantment of

Fleeting dreams—suffocating

Like cold weathered hands

Wrapped around my neck

Trembling and ill intentioned

Tightening their grasp

Refusing to allow

The essence of life

To reach my lungs as

The rise and fall of my chest

Grows shallow.

The light in my eyes fades

Hope escapes with

Every missed breath

Just as the very thought of

Allowing my body to

Slip into the dark

The scent of despair

Succumbs to the smell of

Fresh white heather, I

Breathe in life once more

A chance to dream reborn

Quietly like the

Wings of a hummingbird

Those cold hands

Loosen their grasp

Yet I dare dream again...