stray

“Stray”
Quiet, as yet not to be felt
The under estimated stamina of the incoming season
Still unpredictable to even the hands of fate
Once, not such a distance down the road
It was warm, forgiving air that filled the spaces
Between the people kept hostage with-in there own minds
Now that the winds fever has dropped and skies darken to black
Little, by little everything and everyone turn cold and segregated
Smiles and class handshakes are replaced by sharpened words and social status
As years go by the conditions worsen and the road become dangerous to travel
Iced over, the once warm air turn to hate and deception
Unable to escape the cliché, there are casualties
Mistakes are made and breaking points reached
There’s no happy ending, no heroes, no fairytale, no hope
As more years go by unmentioned and freedom seems achievable
The ice turns to stone, cold blood bathed stone
Deaths are more frequent now and the pressure reaches to soaring heights
Whispered words are shaken and scrambled
Standing in the flowing white cap and gown, paper diligently folded in my hand
But nothing has changed
The town in still infused with stone and stuck in its single minded routine
There is no escaping the quiet as yet no to be felt seasons
Underestimated and harsh they stand corrected
I am defiant