If I should cease tomorrow

would it matter, all that I have achieved

is but dust waiting to fall from my hands,

to shed loose from my skin, the words

lost in Time, nothing ever truly resembles success

for in the end, life,

is the mirror’s illusion, the offering to resign

before the shit gets wiped in your face

from those who have forgotten you.

I should have stayed in the dark,

waiting for you to carry me home,

for in you, at least, there is no despair.

Ian D. Hall 2016