Witness for the Defense

At times as these I want to scream
And shake my despairing hands at the sky:
My wanton days I have yet to redeem
And lacking hope I cannot fathom why.
The minutes of the hours of the days
Pass by.
The moments arrive and once set ablaze
They fly, flitter, fall, flip, faint, fly, fly, fly
And if an unrepentant wretch I die
What can those far flown fiery moments say
For me? That I tried — for a while? I sigh
To think the only thing I have is love,
At least the ambition towards, the intention of.

This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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