SharrdriderofVulken

Each day is like a broken story, You rise each morning to live through it again, Unwanted by those around you, Bereft of hope that you'll ever fit in I have walked many years along your path, Have tread in places no one goes, Too much of one thing, never enough of another, I am far too different, and it shows To always feel their eyes on you, So cruel and harshly judging, They never seem to get to know you, Before they write you off, as just a fool... This is your burden to bear, O lonely child, The will of fate you shall be cursed, To walk a long and winding path, That rarely intersects with others, But hold tight those precious mo

"Beware of where thy tongue leads thee, oh he who mocks and laughs, for the eye that sees instead of scorns avoids the deadly paths." -D.S.C.C. Book of Prophets

So very many broken things, broken hearts and broken rings, So many, many broken things, An empty house, a cricket sings. Out in the park, a child flings, a dog gives chase and back it brings, each time more and more broken things, a dead-eyed doll with broken strings, a hollow crown, devoid of kings. Ever more the broken things, the pain is deep and so it stings, but still they come, the broken things. But how came so many broken things? Soaring down on dragon wings? Bouncing down the street on springs? With pitters, patters, dongs and dings, and oh, I mourn the broken things, So many, many broken things… -SharrdriderofVulken