*I roar with a bravado
that echoes throughout
the deepest caverns
of brave souls
yet with every time
there lies a risk
of my own reverberations
shattering my heart
I am fragile glass
fashioned into
the fearsome form
of a lion
I have been chiseled at by
Father Time and Mother Earth,
carved away by my pains
and my worries.
I am no façade;
there is nothing ornate
about me designed to
hide something heinous
I can shatter
just as easily
as my mother’s
prized china set
But I roar on
even as I chip away;
my joints creaking
and my body scorched.
Do not mistake my
scratches and cracks
for weakness,
I have demons of my own.
I walk this ground
with the hope
that my roars,
in spite of my fragility,
will instill a sense of hope
into all of you
with glass hearts
such as mine.*
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
In the darkest parts of the boulevard
where all you heard where people's cries
where blood was dripping from the celling to the ground
you knew you had arrived. Home.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
How will I breath in a burning room?
I'll probably choke to death.
I will turn to smoke
and soon everybody will forget about me.
While they forget, they'll breath me
and soon enough they'll die.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC