Iron Fist

silent car ride, lonely skies

sheets of coldest, whitest lies

mourning city, early dawn

she ignores me, she drives on.

empty streets, where people stride

with arrogance and falsest pride

distant sun, awake, alive

she ignores me, on we drive.

she says she’ll come back for me

again, one day, or two, or three

holds my hand, her fist in mine

a taste of old, forgotten wine

from where she stepped back into then

and laid eyes on me not again

but I was back behind the bars

and dreamt away between the stars.

fool! I waited, wondered why

losing senses, mid-July.

find me someone there to love:

liberation way above.

find me, but I shan’t let go

lose again like long ago;

this time, I rule with iron fist

spoiled rotten, never kissed.

“do not leave me”, as I plead,

raging waves of washed-up greed.

I cry again, a child’s tears,

grieving for my lonely years

without fingers intertwined,

sightless world somehow gone blind.

just a beacon in the night

so long as she maintains her light.