The Solace of Life's Magnitude
by Michael Doyle

I've never quite decided the tragedy
In the inches of life's comedy
It's all just another way to die
Quite laughable in how it brings another cry

There in the bullet that's fired
Is the bang up finish that has conspired
Found in the sentimental lock of hair
Is another reason found why we should never care

The pain life gives makes it hard to take it
But all the same it's near impossible to fake it
When all of life's conspiracies suddenly collide
Can you tell me truly if it wounds your pride?

So many people are living just a bit loud
Yet, no one gets out alive; it's not allowed
Chasing after our villains over roof top
We are too engaged to ever find our full stop

As we come crashing through the skylight glass
We find ourselves hanging in balance before we pass
There are the wounds that have grown slow to heal
Hidden in the secrets we've come to dread to reveal

Surrounded as we are in the sheer shroud of mystery
We marvel at the questions lived out as our history
It's these as we busily search the tainted faces
That even the most hollow of us near daily embraces

A picked lock as it and if it truly ever were
Surrenders the too many coincidences that daily occur
We take our last inning scratch as we quietly bleed out
And in our last desperate breath, all we hold is doubt

(c) September 1, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved