MY DECEMBER

MY DECEMBER

Fire in the skies,

Ablaze before my eyes,

Memories in sedation,

Yet vexed since conception,

I never had a choice,

For the truth of my voice,

Has been ignored,

So many times I’ve implored,

Outcries being denied,

If only they had been complied,

I fear that this is now my December,

Losing track of everything remembered,

Life has left me blind,

Love, for me, has never been kind,

Always on the outside looking in,

Always the one on the losing end,

Historical answers I’ll never find,

To the rhetorical questions in my mind,

For reasons unknown I feel as if I’ve reached my December,

If this is so, what of me will this world remember?

Will you see the anguish and torment of an ill mind?

Or perhaps you’ll discover the legacy I left behind,

No matter what you find, I hope you see what was in my heart,

Always did it mean well, but once too often was it broken apart,

Many should ask themselves, did they really know me?

Here say is not the truth, and rumors will all they’ll be,

These words, these words right here that I write,

That’s where you’ll find the answers quite contrite,

Why answers of regret you ask?

For I always feared to reveal what lies behind this mask,

Put together the pieces of my writings throughout my brief history,

Then and there will you find clues as to my mystery,

Oh how my December is becoming cold,

The wicked indeed do rest, especially as we age old,

I feel so numb,

Once more I’m on the run,

Running from the fire in the skies,

My December is upon me, this I realize.

-brad