Lost Again

I have no hope; I only have a dull
and pulsing pain that thinks it is my heart.
Between each tear that falls, a sullen lull
expands before a reverie can start.
The spine of my emotions has been cut;
I’m paralyzed: no joy, no love, no hate.
I sense the coming atrophy of what
was once my life: too soon, too much, too late.
I don’t believe in angels anymore.
The songs I hear are shrill and out of tune.
Perhaps they’re demons raging at my door;
my soul is theirs: too late, too much, too soon.
What flame will they employ when they have crossed
the threshold of my life where I am lost?

This sonnet is a follow-on to one written previously entitled Lost–Call To An Angel

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