A Threshold of Pity
The gloaming nightfall called my name,
as the glowing eventide was to blame.
The frosted sill was covered in remorse
and my piteous life was not the same-
I tossed turned, was thrown off course.
Melancholy moments, I feared the most,
and in atonement I was a pathos ghost.
For I was not a valiant woman to seek,
just a silent damsel and a heavenly host-
My bloodstained veins began to leak.
An unpredictable lost doe in the gloom,
I longed for redemption, a crystal tomb.
No one could save my wandering heart,
no conception could enter my sorry womb-
I must prevail, and make a fresh start.
I knew not of stability or reasons to live,
nor answers to questions I could not give.
I enter a threshold of pity, a revolving door,
With a sorry soul not ready to forgive-
Now my dismal life a tragedy, forevermore.
Eight Word Challenge
August 13, 2017
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