Who owns the world, to tell me it’s wonderful.
In my brown eyes, all I see is dismay.
Oh sweet bitterness, you taint me like poison fruit.
Slicing the world, sucking up the seas.
There were reasons to run and hide.
And the fires, are still not out yet.
Damage tingles still on my soul.
An unhealthy sobering state of reason.
You pulled the night and dark down.
Feasting once more on the pain laid bare.
Licking these lesions like hyenas.
Howling at my wounds.
Though this mind wavers on the verge of collapse.
With a heart traumaed into hyperactive failure.
I struggle and smile, wrestling with reason.
Tying ropes around the moon once more.
For though the soil is dark and dangerous.
And it suffocates the very germ of hope.
A tiny seed remains, the true core of me.
To grow out of the rest, which is all just illusioned pageantry
Always enjoy the way you can express yourself. Lovely read 🙂
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Thank you, i appreciate that. Glad you take some enjoyment from these pieces.
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The traumas from our experiences often leaves us, drained dry, and we may need to, stay, in this, state of stagnation, for some time, before we, pull our selves, back out.
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Everyone has their own process and timeframe, i know i usually need longer.
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And yet somehow we carry on. This is a really powerful poem, Mark, which cuts right to the heart.
Excellent.
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Thank you, i’m glad that comes across. What choice are we left with really, live or die i suppose. We usually choose to carry on, no matter what the process is or how long that can take.
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Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
…”ILLUSIONED PAGEANTRY” A FINE PHRASE!
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