Lexi's Poetry Challenge

I write these tired poems,
to escape a fatalistic fate.
That I am but a man,
whose stead has long been claimed,
upon this murky swamp.
Foundation mired in mud,
with vine like tendrils cracking away,
at a conscious facade.
My illusions are all gone,
sunken away,
banished perhaps.
Like a long time fog,
one used as a childhood blanket.

Today I shall earn a wage,
then bury my life's work.
As the water fills my mouth,
I would choke and gag,
except for now I see,
this is the way,
it has to be.
From the depths of a dirty pool,
suspended in a stasis.
A light beams down,
the sun I suppose,
it turns my surroundings gray,
and fills my lungs with loneliness.
In that I know, you know.
Turn away,
if it helps.

My words you see sound wrong,
cause I can not scream loud enough,
from these depths I dwell.
Yet these will be my last,
so perhaps write them down.
Unto your children let them pass,
so I can drown faithfully.
There will be others who know,
where it all began,
where it all broke.