The faded kerosene

Lingers in my hand

Drips in phases

Bearing the soul of man

I couldn’t believe what I had done

Selling my soul for no one I’d known

Crippling in places

Lying, can’t face it

I tremble before the masochistic monotony

The crying and falling apathy

This darkness will spread

Over my skin

Staining my bed

I live in the moonlight

Lightning makes its call

Where will I wander

Who could I sue

I succumb in spite

For this trap we call a life

The ladle of my gran

The spoons she used to measure

The mark of a master

We crave the simplicity

The quiet

The praise

The sanctity

The breeze

The freedom

The doldrum of time

Lazy in its way

Not the unrelenting beat and thump

Of cars hammering past

The incessant beep of their horns

Creeping into every inch of our space

We long for the air

Else we suffocate here

We try to push 

Like seedlings through dirt

For a chance of a drop of water

A chance at sustenance

A chance at life

One day our efforts will be worthy

A life at peace

I believe that at least

For that effort cannot be for naught

The universe may be cruel at times

But there is always hope

Hope is our balm

At least for the minute

While I return to the dull and deary of this city

I know I will see that ray of sunshine