The cloud is dark, It's a gloomy day
Perhaps this is the sign, the bleak sign i mourned for to absorb the breeding thought of killing my sprouting seed
Altering my future, an abuse of a forced choice
guided by my reason, responsive to the enslaving circumstances
I am enslaved to.
Or do i take this chance and swirl with the whirlpool in the troubled dark sea? Cast myself in it like Jonah?
My path is already marked, what i will do, what should i do? Silence my conscience and obey reason or follow passion and obey my energies? Or perhaps marry both?
After all, William Blake quotes: "Without Contraries is no Progression"
I will see in the end what will be, Que Sera Sera, and i will be sorry for the road not taken , diverged in this black wood.
Caught up in the shades of reality
Let me undress your sanity
Make your mind bare, one petal at a time
Holding the pieces of your broken judgement
One more move and its checkmate
Washing the rights off your being
I am your God, I write your fate
Read your thoughts through your eyes
Put you in a sense of illusion
Make you define delusion
Im back! Bit Rusty though:3
Checkmate was the moves that followed me,
Each was noted as if known before I had stepped,
Frustration gained pace upon my fragile self.
Motion seemed stagnant and still,
My life was a dismal stalemate of defeat.
When all life feels like is a failure that builds upon each fall
Hail to thee, thy restless Queen
Shan't let her subjects down
For these things, she has seen
She bare thy heavy crown
In our black & white battle
A pawn took her rook
So she lept to her saddle
To behead pawns & crooks
She rules by her rules
As she captures his knights
Jesters and fools
Cant distract her this tonight
For thy queen
Shan't find sleep
In this kingdom of hate
She shall keep
She will have her Check Mate
goes the clock
darling you are now
under my spell
play in this game
there is no escape,
you are now in the palm of my hands
if you fall first,
don't take this too seriously please, love is not a game. I was just writing for fun, no serious feelings intended.
Waltzing into the blanket of dusk.
A pawn escaping across the checkered board,
Out and inwards to the green grassed yard.
A sleeting figure, past-and-future,
Gone the way of the fearless noble rook.
Down-acrossed squares of black and white.
Into the field of endless battle.
This game we play, has become a tournament.
White against black, two players locked;
Locked in a battle of constant wits.
Who shall win?
The noble too afraid to capture the evil queen or,
The darkness plauging the board.
**Check and mate.
— The End —