Walking to Dawn

In these eyes
the sights of confusion
This is the only chair I own
and sometimes it seems to be breaking…
Words of fading hope
and seething sorrow
This is the beaten story
that I somehow tell well
very well my friend
You are unaware
to trace the tears
to the taste on your tongue
why would you?
When the words falter
I feel it by the sight
But I push the notion far away
As I’ll do once more
to return my eyes
to what I face tomorrow.