Dark clouds weighed down on his Sunday morning
Rough weather appears to be in store till evening
The prospects of bright tomorrows are all but gone
And in the twilight of his life there’ll be no sun.
Life is so bleak; there is no sunshine in his world
The leaden sky hung heavy; can the heavens hold?
And tonight will be pitch black, all the stars will hide
No dreams to bring him joy, no matter how he tried
Thus, he’s condemned to live alone, in solitary pain
Is life worth living? He asks himself again and again
The four walls of his lonely world seem to implode
Nightly, as he drifts to sleep and his thoughts erode
Surely morning will be back, the clouds will vanish
Sunshine will soak his world and sadness will perish
There will be white unicorns galloping in his dreams
And all will be well, as he bathes in the moonbeams
Sadly... It’s a hoax; there are no sunshines, no unicorns
There’s only loneliness, isolation; no roses only thorns
There are only the four walls of his fortress solitude
Damp barren walls, cold like marble and darkly hued...
© Vic A Evora