A thousand
times I call yet no answer.
A thousand
minutes desolate in vain.
Many days appointed
to gather in total
accumulated
as if points to a game.
A measure
of time that spans inconceivably
as a
string of endless ambivalence,
tied in
knots of classified disappointments,
irretrievably
lost in quiet frustration.
A meager
expectation thwarted.
Reduced to
a miracle that may occur.
Confounding
logic to a stalemate.
Circumventing
a defeat, the will to surrender,
I become haggard
and gray gracefully.
One day you’ll
remember I am your brother.
DionWorx
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