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moe-awadPoems
My true feelings are obscured by pure bitter intellection. My brain is the main heretic of my soul. My thoughts… I know them well. To each his own cognomen but yet I am confused. Auto-Da-Fe… But that won't work. When I try to fathom I break. And when I behold myself I shake. No matter what I do, I will be held beneath the rest. Because a sane person would help himself. What's worse is that I know better but yet… Perfidy… I used to trust myself. That’s why I write. That’s why I write in a way that leaves all doubt behind. Because that's how I clear my mind. My condition hold's a banner that reads "Don’t Stop!" But my conscience feels the need to make me be a better version of me. So I will stop. Eventually… Procrastination turns into never. I am on my death bed now. Toroidal chains erupt from thin air around me. They tighten their grip around me in lento. I hear a crescendo. My sense of hearing finally decodes the glass that just fell from my hand. I don’t see a grim reaper or Baphomet anywhere. That gives me a little solace… The end is near and once again, after all this time, All I can think about is… "What if?" ...
0
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 2:18 PM UTC
~PIECE OF MIND~
My true feelings are obscured by pure bitter intellection. My brain is the main heretic of my soul. My thoughts… I know them well. To each his own cognomen but yet I am confused. Auto-Da-Fe… But that won't work. When I try to fathom I break. And when I behold myself I shake. No matter what I do, I will be held beneath the rest. Because a sane person would help himself. What's worse is that I know better but yet… Perfidy… I used to trust myself. That’s why I write. That’s why I write in a way that leaves all doubt behind. Because that's how I clear my mind. My condition hold's a banner that reads "Don’t Stop!" But my conscience feels the need to make me be a better version of me. So I will stop. Eventually… Procrastination turns into never. I am on my death bed now. Toroidal chains erupt from thin air around me. They tighten their grip around me in lento. I hear a crescendo. My sense of hearing finally decodes the glass that just fell from my hand. I don’t see a grim reaper or Baphomet anywhere. That gives me a little solace… The end is near and once again, after all this time, All I can think about is… "What if?" ...
~An original piece by Moe Awad~
moe-awad
Written by
moe-awad
Sudanese
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 2:18 PM UTC
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