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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Darrel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On his shoulder<br>are the weight of his struggles, <br>his prostrate grief, <br>and esoteric quintessence; <br>the impending doom<br>that defeat riveted</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On his hands<br>are burns from cigarettes, <br>an empty bottle<br>and everything else<br>lifeless and afraid</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On his eyes<br>are shut persiennes<br>veiling the shadows that<br>love has casted<br>and its silver web<br>of emptiness</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On his brittle bones<br>shivers the abhorrence<br>for ephemeral amities <br>and its affinity<br>which is the love<br>for weak beacons leaning<br>on tired sunsets</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He traversed skylines<br>like arrows assailed<br>to the stygian flames<br>and to get out of his track<br>is a distraction from<br>the eternal malaise<br>that he is trying to chase<br>and escape all the same</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He counted little deaths<br>and little details -<br>like felled petals, <br>and lambent sighs; <br>like the sequins<br>and tears evocated</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Darrel was not his name, <br>because his existence<br>is but a fallen grain<br>in the hour glass -<br>he was jeopardized<br>a beau not, <br>a confidant not, <br>a wise not, <br>a luxury not, <br>a poet not, <br>but he was an eternal child<br>who knows not<br>but the home built<br>with monoliths<br>from scoured grace</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And to be given<br>a home with walls, <br>frail constitutions, <br>a hearth for warmth<br>where nobody<br>had a name<br>despite myriad of <br>regrets and failures<br>that a man wouldn't<br>even surmise<br>was a splendid bliss<br>for Darrel</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">and Darrel<br>was his name.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a></strong></div>