Solitude

From Solitude, from sleep and involuntary peeps
trying way too hard as i try to tell you speaking
to you though words that barely made it out,  
mumble, madness but screams babbled made from my mouth.

Solitude was a stitch id wear now torn from the warrens 
when that last word left my tongue sadness struck your compliments,
tears fell and the hand you hadn't held long was gone
where you feel the anger of remorseful nothings,

You yelled the sort of yell not discouraged.   
Empty was the point of acceptance and the lack of hope  
was the cusp, the dawn of both these sides
as  branches were the blackness of a robe.

Solitude was the point twine
decline settled  but yet bargaining with  
death was the most dishevel, 
gulping from the discontent
 the detail that was the devil
grasping at my throat and
wind pipes were dis-prevailed

by the time these words got to you
and  your  last tear  already fell,
again i was  pronounced as dead
did my words denounce this hell
as you knew once was enough.

Dark as the feel of the sharpest-dullness
concealed in thyself is the concealing self.