Somedays…

Somedays, the problem is, that it feels like the sun will never rise,
It departs when all your avenues met their demise, hacked off, one rotten limb at a time,
Something wild, and violent caged within, starts to chime, gnawing and growing off emotion akin to blood-sucking lice,
This white blazing anger though, gasps, dims and darkens into ice, for all that trouble giving nothing, but a doom of frozen shine.

Somedays, you raise the pyres of your ashen hopes, again and again against the night,
To find it discovered with vicious glee and might, innocence strangled, snuffed out by the looming void.
Still you will prevail, with poise no doubt, atleast the pure strength of your heart will be the sanguine guide!
Only to hear the laughter of the never-attenuating tide, the summoned willpower capsized, fleeing in a mad rout.

Somedays…
will be these days.
Where the appeal of a silent tomb,
of a world consumed to nothingness, can be deafening
For the good men, these false days will pass, that’s what they say.
But what about those, whose eyes can never seem to feel the light again?