The Gloomy Room

Emptiness like a smoked cigarette      
where nothing but the ashes remain      
the stale smell of smoke lingering      
in the air of a room enveloped by shadows      
cast by the setting sun.      
     
The gloomy room sets the tone for my soul      
riddled with holes      
that can't be knitted back together      
pain that perforates my heart      
piercing it to its core.      
     
Reaching for the light      
I stummble blindly in the dark      
my soul bleeding what remains      
of the ruins of my being      
I pick it up with my hands.      
     
Raise it skyward and ask      
for my spirit to be lifted and filled with grace      
plead that the emptiness I feel      
be replaced with a gratefulness      
for a life given and lived      
I seek with all my soul      
to amount to more than ashes from within.