*
Ever so often I come unbalanced,
&
off hinge,

never been a person of chance
or spiteful revenge;

lately,
mine moral compass seeks other wayful means -
see those pictures of pillowy skies...mountain sides,
all sound of wonderful sight,
yet -
soul wanders afar from magical serene;
use to winter's sting & tapping toes upon fiery scenes;
human shaped demons have imposingly come to lay,
jangling hope
twistfully for another day...
mine heart screams in shame -
I wish for dreadful things to careen your way.