Mind is a word
that paints a million pictures;
a blurred world becoming absurd
while voices faint with strictures.Trapped in a cell with nothing but dust,
I feel fearful and qualm.
Study me closely to earn my trust;
observe my breath's swirl, before rings my alarm.Why are thoughts so loud?
I sometimes wish they could get out of my head.
Constant screaming voices almost like a crowd;
I should not take your advice or else I'll surely be dead.In a murky muddy place excavated by social spaces
are suppressed delicate yet cruel things.
Twinkle, gambol and dashes
lodged deep within, a star sings.A quirk of the head, a sideways glance,
its dulcet song merges with the voices;
twisted whispers and shadow figures dance,
a delusional cacophonous symphony appears.Mind cavorting like a puppet,
now is time to blow out the trumpet!
Shame, blame, guilt, resentment,
yet convinced I'm content.Have a look at the world where
hopelessness is left omnipotent!
Execrable slaves with no share
disguise their pain in predicament.Why should we even care?
In the end, continues the blare;
we will sadly cave and crumble
beneath the waves, where ceases the mumble.
YOU ARE READING
Raindrops of Reality - [poetry]
PoetryI'm fine. But what does it mean? A phrase said for years but usually meaning a lie. A settlement for how something could be? Or a false testimony for the way that I'm feeling? Raindrops of Reality is a personal collection of poems, with the will to...