Half is falling
 

So here am I with half my hopes
And Half my dreams unbroken
So here am I with half my soul
And half my passion consumed
Where does a half-thing go from here?
To withered pastures? To barren jungles?
I must turn ronin, travel my half-self

What is lost is never truly found again
Extra parts must be distorted into
Shape. A scarred heart will never
Be wholly healed of malady

So here am I with half brand
New and half dilapidated and elderly
So here am I, a sum of two dejected
Pieces. The cicatrix clearly showing
Against impartial impassivity.
Dispirited, in drunken disorderliness
I half stand and half sit, leaning
On those no more able than I
To understand their alcoholistic ways.

The disfigurement will fade slowly
And sorrowful are those memories
Of things that have and will never
Be to me or my eyes. I did not sympathise
With them before, defeated souls that
Wandered aimlessly, staring with
Yearning at those love-struck puppies
Which flaunt their endless happiness.
Their turn seems to come not, and ‘joy
Eternal’ belongs to them for a while.

Jealous shades are lingering, of which I
Am now one, cast out, set apart by my
Own careless murmur, in the wrong time.
Jaded cynicism now becomes me and my ilk
As our emerald clouded eyes now
Shamefully confess to those who are our
Comfortless friends. And faceless friends
Of friends, which appear in multitudes.
Blurred and bleary sight, ensure humiliation
And makes the hole seem inviting.
Perhaps there is hope, but half is gone
Lost forever, following the tears that
Fell

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