The World of Myth Magazine

At the precipice, at the brink,
A flash of lifetimes, in a mere wink,
Of fear and failure, from you we shrink,
Our souls so hollow, we dread to blink,
They speak of mirth, of health so pink,
Yet we are racked, with knot and kink,
Our vessel crippled, devoured by drink,
Drown out the sorrow, so we shan’t think,
Away from dawn, we often slink,
Toward the twilight, our bodies sink,
No love nor ties, no bond nor link,
Our finality shared, by the spill of ink.

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