Untitled Song

I change the fate of my script daily with words soon to be forgotten. As villain or hero I play. Dressed to impress I wear a wrinkle-free bravado with kneeling-starch sorrow. Words dress me each day to star in the noble dreams I write. At times I stare back at them to find a sad song in tune with my wrong. I wipe away tears and cradle ‘em in my arms to feed from bosom’s cheer. This boy lives in my coffin of flesh. Courageously, he peaks out the door of despair to ingest his lungs with hope of freedom. The day will come when he’ll transcend existing in a cemetery of fears to singing an untitled song.

Chester Delagneau

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