©2023 michael raven
marrow weary and waiting
for that long dark come
nothing much more on offer:
they have already taken
their pound of flesh
and i have no tales
left to sell
wraith wraith wraith
a ghost in the grinder
if only there were
troubadour songs left
in this empty shell
even so, there are
no ears left to hear
slumbering now, silent
until the next
turn of the wheel
sceadugenga 
We are all bards trying to tell our tales. Sometimes it feels as if the world can’t hear us no matter how loud we shout. Or maybe you are right, they have no ears to hear.
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Most people only want what’s comfortable. And that’s okay, but that’s not where I am. Not that I’m trying to be weird just to be weird, but goals are different.
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