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.