Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
I find no evolution when,
My hand slides over my stomach,
And tries to reach a Heaven,
Followed by
A Dumbness instead;

I find myself
Caught in a wire when,
My throat claims
To be the Queen of the Air,
And bestows her *****,
In order to be admired,

For Plants smile at her,
And say:
“You are the one who,
Make us aspire,
To a better realm”

So much Patience,
I have worked out,

But such a red shadow surrounds me still,
For I can beat up myself,
Against the same wall,
And never uplift my eyes,
To a new world;

So much Fever,
I have embraced,

But there is no worst illness,
Than the one carried on our soul,

Whereas ****** & Songs aren’t enough,
To fill up such a Hole;

However,
I’m still being the Ocean,
Every Galleon sails out,

For my Future won’t change my Past,
But my Present will set up my nails,
If I get concentrated well;

Everyday a new life is born,
So the chance to start over
Always remains open,

In which I’ll never fall
Into my old abyss,

For Thorns & Tears are singing
A black psalm,
Awaiting for anyone to be down
And becoming them part of the Choir,
By the illusion
To make them feel Pride.
Poetae Opus
Written by
Poetae Opus  M/Portland, OR
(M/Portland, OR)   
207
   Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems