The fruit was ripe,
Fueled of agony and woe.
Buds of wrath, all of a sudden;
Began to flower in tow.
The garden was tainted,
Of grievous fumes that raised.
And my arm swung on its own,
A harsh resonance'd in the air.
Shocked I was of my deed.
And the cry that pierced,
Brought rains and storms.
It drowned all fleets.
Gone then was life.
Not one but all those there,
All their hearts- stabbed
And torn- with nothing but eyes.
Venom dripped from underneath my lids,
The guilt didn't waste to settle in.
The wrath that ambushed- me- was strong;
But this strength is and was truly wrong.
Had I consumed rage?
Or had it consumed me?
Had I devoured the fruit?
Or had its venom devoured me?
The first succumb brought relief.
A deed done is ne'er undone.
The first bite is needed only,
To walk a path of no return.
Had it been my fault?
Certainly it was and there-
There was no reason,
For it to have been not.
Now I'm bound by another gift.
For guilt has tightened in its fist,
The leash it coils so often on me.
I wouldn't hear the end of it.
Every head turned.
I'd been so blind.
It was a small mischief.
But chaos just had to cry.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Luna Ro.♡
P.S
Long story short. December 27, 2021. Yes, right after christmas.
I hit my brother in the back of his shin -punched- in front of my relatives.
It was a reflex.
Now I will regret it forever. Till the day of my death.
Great fucking job.
The angel in my head was waiting for me to screw up somehow.
Because the angel says, "There's no way you can live without screwing up at their place."
Things 'were' going too well anyways.
I guess I'll just never let myself off the leash again.
I'll also keep myself in an extra leash of guilt.
I cried too. Something I wasnt supposed to do. My tears bring great misfortune for its witnesses.
And even more so when I'd been the one at fault....
God, you must be proud of your angel having been correct about me messing up, right?
"Of course."
YOU ARE READING
Through Hallways Of The Castle In Spain
PoetryThese are the stories, Flowing with my heartbeats, Pushed around in my frame, Along with blood in my veins. And all I have to tell these to you, are, but mere words. An ongoing collection of poems on various themes-or maybe one, or two, perhaps vari...
