I feel a stranger to my own shadow.
Upon a highway seldom traveled
The road stretches on devoid of life.
Dare I look behind to see regret’s form
Singular is my being just me on this open road.
I would cry out, but my voice has gone hoarse from screaming
Dried up are my tears, never to be cried again.
Emotion is my abrasive companion
As a friend that cares only for himself.
There is no person in this unending place
Just My thoughts knocking against the sky.
If I laid down upon the broken ground
My bones would crack and wither to dust.
Freed would I be, from this torment and Life
But alas there will be no end, no releases.
Just an infinity of me, being alone.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.