Untitled Song

I change the fate of my script with words soon to be forgotten. Villain or hero, I decide. 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 a coffin of flesh. Courageously, he peeks out the door of despair to ingest his lungs with the breath of freedom. The triumphant day has come to transcend sleeping in a cemetery of fears to singing an untitled song.

Chester Delagneau

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