WHEN THE SUN DOES SET by John Patrick Robbins

Upon a heart's once-promising horizon.
I know that all too familiar emptiness that burns within my very soul.

I am a pawn shop's promise as I have sold my soul to stand a shell where once was a man.

I hide behind a mask as none could bear the burden of the vision that is me.

Tears of the blood of the vacant stare pour freely as I die slowly.

When the sun sets every time, there is less of me to be found upon its return.

Soon, only the mask will remain to be discovered,
Of the person who was never truly me.

 

John Patrick Robbins, is a Southern Gothic writer hus work has been published in.
Disturb The Universe, Piker Press, Impspired Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Fixator Press and here at Cold Rambler. His work is often dark and always unfiltered.

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