A token of humanity wrapped in innocence
An idea of morality that exists in only openness
A broken idea of warped unknowingness
A faith of unapparent that lurks below
A naivety broken in harshness
An unspoken vigilance
A film protecting light from dark
A cellophane heart
I see you appear
As unconsciously as the tide
You conjure in my head
Like the poltergeist of my psyche
Your voice rattles the wall of the castle my mind calls home
Books fly off of shelves of knowledge into the array of ambiguity
A certain fear of uncertainty builds into a tower of the unknown
The novels telling histories of us
A history of war and **** that exists in grisly repetition
A fear I can place
One that belongs in the deeps of the ocean
Next to a jetty lies the remains of my innocence
The despair of recurrence in a daily scene
Only recognizable by whom it passes through
An image of the possibility of the future that man holds
The woman you pass on her way to work
The boy riding his bike around the culdesac
The little girl you see holding her mother’s hand
the recurring possibility of the purge of innocence
It lies beneath the skin of each body
Creeping in the crevice in the sidewalk
Looking up the skirt of humanity
Waiting for the opportunity to strike
A slithering creature lying in wake
A creature that is man
And I am ashamed to be seen as one of them
Andrew W.
10-20-20
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 12:57 AM UTC
A token of humanity wrapped in innocence
An idea of morality that exists in only openness
A broken idea of warped unknowingness
A faith of unapparent that lurks below
A naivety broken in harshness
An unspoken vigilance
A film protecting light from dark
A cellophane heart
I see you appear
As unconsciously as the tide
You conjure in my head
Like the poltergeist of my psyche
Your voice rattles the wall of the castle my mind calls home
Books fly off of shelves of knowledge into the array of ambiguity
A certain fear of uncertainty builds into a tower of the unknown
The novels telling histories of us
A history of war and **** that exists in grisly repetition
A fear I can place
One that belongs in the deeps of the ocean
Next to a jetty lies the remains of my innocence
The despair of recurrence in a daily scene
Only recognizable by whom it passes through
An image of the possibility of the future that man holds
The woman you pass on her way to work
The boy riding his bike around the culdesac
The little girl you see holding her mother’s hand
the recurring possibility of the purge of innocence
It lies beneath the skin of each body
Creeping in the crevice in the sidewalk
Looking up the skirt of humanity
Waiting for the opportunity to strike
A slithering creature lying in wake
A creature that is man
And I am ashamed to be seen as one of them
Andrew W.
10-20-20
All Poems are in chronological order from earliest to latest. For reference, my birth date is 3/24/05.
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