My heart aches for you,
for your pain, suffering,
heart, black and blue.
It is you
who has mended and tended
my own heart afflicted with wounds.
Strong, still, I see you
amongst your lengthy strife.
Yet your stakes are far higher than
those within my life.
Simple nature of the boundless,
time waits for none, the less
attachment to this mass
taken out of context.
Vexed as I am,
in the sea of uncertain,
words churn in and out of display.
I portray your words, as a series of sounds
calmly collected, as they swirl to the ground.
Stamping out the fire,
which kept vicious shadows at bay,
successfully engulf me, mired
snugly tucked in my grave.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
My heart aches for you,
for your pain, suffering,
heart, black and blue.
It is you
who has mended and tended
my own heart afflicted with wounds.
Strong, still, I see you
amongst your lengthy strife.
Yet your stakes are far higher than
those within my life.
Simple nature of the boundless,
time waits for none, the less
attachment to this mass
taken out of context.
Vexed as I am,
in the sea of uncertain,
words churn in and out of display.
I portray your words, as a series of sounds
calmly collected, as they swirl to the ground.
Stamping out the fire,
which kept vicious shadows at bay,
successfully engulf me, mired
snugly tucked in my grave.
Written February 16, 2013