Every touch,

a piece of heart,

a lonely pair,

with a new start.

 

Prophets didn't write it down,

a new beginning, a new town,

a fresh filter for my thoughts,

throw the old ones to the dogs.

 

I watch the sun rise over hills,

you populated with poison quills,

but will roam around no longer.

 

My strength returns slowly;

my eye catches a ray of sun,

a ray of hope,

a new dawn.

 

Infused with energy,

a smile spreads across my face like cancer,

the chances of its survival are the same,

or maybe not this time.

 

Optimism fights with reality,

a spear tipped with malice and distrust,

swinging like a welterweight in the first,

occasionally biting crimson,

but often slicing air alone;

the battle will end somehow.

 

Everything ends,

somehow.