you keep throwing your rocks into a puddle with a calamitous depth, and you get no ripple in return
your rock doesn't even skip, it just sinks, to collect with all the other remnants of your efforts
there is a rose in a vase that you try to keep alive
nonetheless time is unforgiving and the petals continue to perish, and you're left with the thorns that bare their teeth at your labors
your pockets are an empty cove, all at the cost of love
your hands are starved puppies, endlessly hopeful and pitiful, eating the scraps that they leave you to pick up
what is it you want, to be the tv that solely aids as background noise in the lives of the ungracious?
when will you realize that those people that continue to take from your heart of treasures don't admire the veins and life that lies behind it?
when will you realize that your illusory dignity isn't only precious when someone else will ultimately recognize your glory?
that you're the sun and their shallowness are the clouds that lie beneath your brilliance
that your warmth is what constitutes life in planets far away
but you'll live unknowingly, shards of a body left at the cost of generosity
you'll continue to give and give until your bones begin to decay into the earth that you yielded life
and then there will still be vultures after, that'll continue to take what they can get from the residue of your pure soul
YOU ARE READING
the petals on a rose
Poetryand then there will still be vultures after that'll continue to take what they can get from the residue of your pure soul [a collection of poetry & prose]
