This poem was channeled by me for someone…  These feelings are some mans…Not mine, but I felt that I needed to write them

Solid grey

The clang of scraping metal

A full Moon lit our breathing force

As the still clashed and no remorse

Thirteen degrees and no clouds seen

Working by nights accomplishing a means

Hungary mouths of little children demanding more

What does it take from a man who married a dank whore

Leaving lives hanging without any thoughts of responsibilities

Leaving me, but whats worse, leaving them

Children, four soulless Bastards

No mother:

She left

The sounds of the clanging of scraping steel

Nails on a chalkboard is how I feel

Strangely The Moon watches my every move

It knows how a lost desperate man broods

And I work by night to feed the birds

My ears ringing from hearing dirges

Meshing the frozen gloved fingers tightly

Soon to enter home to kiss the four darlings

And send them to school while sleeping in daytime

And the hour glasses sands move one grain interchanging

Until four pm comes daily as it does regularly

Voices of the hungry enter

Begging their daddy not go into the winter

The hammers won’t wait

For the father’s little break

He hugs them goodbye and puts them to bed

And the grandmother sleeps cuddled next to their heads