Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I am struck. Struck once again by the lighting of fear; but also by that of fate. And while I want nothing more than to fill these pages with hate, I know deep down that the state of my heart will endure the now undefined shape of my future. The pile of ash that remains is just another locked door. A mound of fallen hopes and tears to be buried beyond the depths of this floor. And I am sure, that what was once the key was only just a lure. And yet, as if by monstrous waves I am nonetheless crushed over and over again. Unsure, whether or not the blow of one more I will be able to endure. Standing. Breathing. Thinking. An infinite array of caves await, whose haunted hollows the only enclaves, where dwells the depths from which my future resonates.
0
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Struck
I am struck. Struck once again by the lighting of fear; but also by that of fate. And while I want nothing more than to fill these pages with hate, I know deep down that the state of my heart will endure the now undefined shape of my future. The pile of ash that remains is just another locked door. A mound of fallen hopes and tears to be buried beyond the depths of this floor. And I am sure, that what was once the key was only just a lure. And yet, as if by monstrous waves I am nonetheless crushed over and over again. Unsure, whether or not the blow of one more I will be able to endure. Standing. Breathing. Thinking. An infinite array of caves await, whose haunted hollows the only enclaves, where dwells the depths from which my future resonates.
paige-wright
Written by
American
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem