Bloodshot Panes

A strange calamity
Obscures
The fair world I retain

And little remains
For these starved
Ever-roving eyes

These truth-harboring panes
Are plagued
With jagged roads of crimson

For I’ve allowed
The steady drum of anguish
To distort once true and proud
Melodies of rapture  

Offbeat and battered
And ground
To a withering heap

My peace trudges
Down tattered roads
Brought forth by these crude
And impatient hands