That's Just The Way Things Are

When the sun rises from the horizon
Tinging everything in its path with a golden hue
And all of yesterday turns into dust
That's just the way things are.

I lift my cloak of memory - it is
A frayed fabric; moth-eaten and raunchy
The maelstrom of catastrophe struck; as if I were Napoleon in Waterloo
I lowered it and the havoc ceased; silence dawned again.

I ought not dwell in the malignant past
Where the remains of an unfinished affair lurks
Malevolently, seeking an absolution; hands curled into claws
To drag me under, never to resurface.

Suppose I drown in my own misery and no one even notices
But that's just the way things are.