×××
It was a new start:
Flipped the page of my book.
Fresh, white, new page,
Smooth paper dainty and
fragile by touches of
curiosity astray.
Under the lift of milk,
Smooth just like silk,
Your pen embarked
and you scribbled your mark.
It was a new start:
New chapter, turned the leaf,
Your mouth open in such
great disbelief;
but why not relief?
Gripped and tainted,
Fingers that have painted
sweet marks along flesh,
My conscience caught in your mesh.
It was a new start:
Faint rubber scars that spill
like a cobweb over the page;
hard to erase
even with space.
You shot just like a commando,
¿Estas escuchando?*
If not, my tongue is the key,
You won't win without a fee.
It was never a new start,
Mistakes soon depart.
Marks abstract just like art,
Memories carved into my heart.
Blood that flows from the dart,
Mercilessly, it drips while you impart
dreams and fairytales apart
in what you call this wrecked
"work of art".
It rips and tears sporradically,
Its biology complex and quite radical.
Fluffy edges, or maybe they're sharp
like knives that slice and cut.
Like the blood that flows,
It's engraved into my mind
like some sort of manacles
that pair each of my sweaty palms.
I quiver and shiver while you deliver
each of these insults like scissors
that cut and slice just like this paper.
A leaf only has two sides,
Yet people change more than twice.
So does that mean we see these
sides from a different perspective?
Or are we stupid, brainwashed
into the perception of society?
As the seams lift and mindsets shift,
Conscience gifts and, alas, it exists.
×××
*¿Estás escuchando? = Are you listening?
YOU ARE READING
.•«⟨ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ⟩»•.
PoetryWelcome! Do you like poetry? Here, I've composed many poems that I believe are capable of being to your interest. Thank you for reading these all and always expect more!
