Cold Dark Rooms, Poem

Cold Dark Rooms

Cold dark rooms, void of all light

Empty of love and all that is right

Shadowed and bleak, containing no warmth

Veiled from the world from whence they come forth

Tattered and worn with cracks in the walls

Visibly scarred from all of my falls

Dripping with wet and moldy from years

Rusted and tainted from all of my tears

Battered and worn and likely well used

Jilted and cursed and deftly abused

Those who profess, to love me most high

The very same ones just watching me die

Deceiving my mind betraying my trust

They do as they please, I as I must

Cold dark rooms void of all light

Empty of love and all that is right

Of the rooms that I speak no walls bear a mark

For the rooms just exist in the core of my heart

© Tim Wilkinson & Wayne Wilks 1989-2009