I am a cairn, a pile
\nOf stone and rock
\nA monument, of sorts
\nI drink alone
\nNot knowing why
\nOr when
\nThis all began<\/p>\n
Or whether peace
\nOr torment heaped
\nUpon my hallowed ground
\nMy solace satiated
\nPatiently awaiting
\nSome fresh
\nPassion<\/p>\n
Yet, no passion springs
\nThere is no fury
\nOnly loneliness resides so
\nWhy do I abide
\nThis misery
\nThis loathsome anguish
\nServed to me with bourbon<\/p>\n
Maybe rocks
\nMaybe not
\nAnd yet I wonder, why
\nDo I recite
\nThis vulgar scent
\nOf suffering
\nAnd sadness<\/p>\n
Perhaps I\u2019m
\nSelf-ashamed
\nFor leaving all
\nI\u2019ve ever loved
\nOr perchance
\nDistraught because
\nI\u2019ve never really loved<\/p>\n
And stumble then
\nUpon some
\nThought of joy
\nI\u2019ve known
\nA bare
\nRemembrance
\nA cairn<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am a cairn, a pile Of stone and rock A monument, of sorts I drink alone Not knowing why Or when This all began Or whether peace Or torment heaped Upon my hallowed ground My solace satiated Patiently awaiting … Continue reading