I feel I am dead, as dead as a nail,
All hammered and coffin
All bent and rust.
Buried back down deep beneath the cold
And frozen black dust.
And yet I still breathe, a tired man’s breath,
Albeit a sigh, a solemn draw,
While I hammer at the window
While I wrap at the door,
My mind has locked me out.
Or maybe I am locked in, I am not sure,
Either way I am standing here once more,
Standing on the wrong side of this bastard bolted door.
I am searching for the right key
But the bunch is far too big.
So as it is, back to the shadow I have returned,
Where no warm does glow, no hope does burn.
Back to the bottom of hells staircase,
Locked behind the door and staring at my once stood place,
All dead and nail inside.
Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.