Early light through peaking curtains.
Morning orange pulls the fool from rest.
A fool they were, for they were certain,
The marks of foolishness, they would detest.
Weary glances at reflective glass,
Provides a glare into the wound.
Poison seeps right through golden apparel,
Stained by the sins of many moons.
The fool hides the pain under thick layers of paint,
To hide them from those concerned views.
But underneath, the impurity festers,
And tints the skin with wine-like hues.
A scar is not the same as good flesh,
But it reminds them that from their pain they heal and grow.
But hide a scar underneath the paint,
And the past a fool cannot let go.
Marked be the foolish fool that riddles themselves with lies of promise,
Cursed be the jester that worships paint.
Damned be the trickster that brags of their prowess,
But acknowledge the ally that washes the stains.
YOU ARE READING
Fools & Vipers - A collection of poems
PoesíaIt wraps around my body well, But between the seams of my dress, Would fit a thousand embroideries, But no longer would it match. My first anthology. This is a small bundle of ten poems about birds and flowers, thoughts and feelings, hedgehogs...
