So my poetry is in a re working phase
and it kind sucks at the moment.

Constantly a question
Left until I find an answer
Constantly a mumur
Left until I’ve got something to say
As I sit and I wait
As I laugh and its fate
That doesn’t really make sense anymore
I blame it on a servant that doesn’t love its master
Perhaps it could
Clearly it would
If but the master would acknowledge the fight

And yet still the dark will stay
Always night has been that which lets in what I can not destroy
That which has made a fortress
As I sit and watch the castle fade
And the servant betrays the master
I see a face appear into this night
Neither clear nor contrite
You will not make another

And now I’ve seen my lesson
And now I’ve found my light
However dim it may shine
It only needs some wax
It only needs to be dug out
Given oxygen
Allowed to live
and now there is nothing left to give
to the fire that destroyed its life
purging
though at the moment it seemed
........
lost.