I sang the song of the lonely oceans
Where heartbroken words are drowned
In the deepest darkest place of emotions
Where I screamed without a sound

I longed for you to hear my voice
My inner screams suffocating
Our broken love was not my choice
But I suffer my turmoil within

Pain.
It's tempting.
Hidden in hearts
That hold onto memories.
Addiction.

Healing.
It's reluctant.
The mind fails
But it always continues.
Affliction.

The Room of Dancing Shadows,
undulating across the wall,
like ****** Persian ballerinas,
making no sound at all.
Reaching, retreating, a mosaic form,
eternally shifting the dark shade.
Pictures of no light in a flux,
remain fragmented, cold, unmade.
Hypnotising, random shapes in black,
swim serenely, start to slide.
The Room of Dancing Shadows
holds its fear deep, deep inside.


© Pagan Paul (03/10/16)

The truth is…
              the real truth…?
                             Do people do that?

How’s my new dress?
                                             It makes you look fat.

Like my new do?
I paid quite a lot
                                             You got ripped off, dear,
                                               You might even sue.

How are you today?
Just a quick answer please
I don’t have the time
To hear of your bad knees.
                                              I’m doing fine, knowing
                                               You don’t want to hear
                                               My problems and stresses
                                               I won’t bend your ear.


A “white lie” is easier
Makes conversation go fast
Then again, you just never know
When you might hear the real truth
It could be quite a blow.
So beware

the truth is…

If you don’t want the real truth?
Perhaps you shouldn’t ask.