A/N: Attached some atmospheric music that you could listen to while reading the poem.
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The plaintive song of the bells
Brings colour to the stained class
The only thing that brings me comfort
In the events about to pass:
The cake sounds like the laugh
Of a killer about to strike
The ribbons on the ceiling
I smell, they are with poison spiked
The wedding crown smells like text
That has been cut-and-pasted
This whole hall, the whole hall
Reeks of thousand of dollars wasted
The hearts are old
The love is new
The cuts are borrowed
The pain is blue.
And black.
Like the an inertia prison
Like the rainbow that vanishes
Once you move the prism
And before 'she'
and 'he'
and 'we'
come to pass
I shall tell you one last thing:
The rings feel like glass.
YOU ARE READING
Anarchy
PoesíaAnarchy. A swirl of topics: emotions, allusions to history, social issues... And somewhere in the maelstrom comes forth rhymes and prose. Note: If you can't be bothered to read all the poems (quite understandably), I've starred the better ones.
