NEXT TO NO ONE
With no one here to wipe the tears,
Can I really be crying?
With all I've tried to give, I'm not sure I've lived,
But, God, I know I'm dying.
A chilled bottle burns and soothes the yearn
To be something to someone.
That passive thought so soon forgot,
When you wake up next to no one.
As Destiny's call rings through the hall,
Demanding some sort of retribution.
A legacy of stone I face alone,
Against this world of institution.
Generating the hate, sealing the fate
Of a man marred by emotion.
It's the need of need which lays the seed,
But love, alone, sets it in motion.
An angelic cry from a darkened sky
Lightning rides forth the knell.
As thunder peals and the soul reveals
The blackness of my own personal hell.
For in all I've shared, I have never fared
A night with soft arms to embrace me.
Waking to the bliss of dawn's first kiss
To find her still there to face me.
Oh, but is that, indeed, the penance I bleed,
Fading in the folded arms of emptiness?
To never for real know how Love feels,
While ravished by her capriciousness.
The aftermath, envy and wrath,
The unfulfilled quest of a "true" wife.
While saltless tears reflecting wasted years
Pilfer the remnants of voided life.
The coldest lies are often told in silence.
[This message has been edited by Michael (edited 10-04-1999).]