Never ending circles
Quaint dives drip
into hands
the best laid plans
mice made into men
even when
there is no hope
no faith,we cope.
We grope in the dark
and make the best of worlds
from ashes
and heart shaped gashes
I love yous recycled
my hearts a rhythm.
A schism of a song
I was the king of nothing
bluffing behind playing cards
a rough hand
but I still hold the key
to ashes or wings flying free.