Locked away in a glass case, a man no more.
Feet that once walked, stuck to the floor.
I see you from behind my forlorn confinement, wishing that my feelings, had had some sort of realignment.
Can't you see the pernicious parasite that eats at your vitality? Maybe I'm just crazy; my consciousness outside of reality.
You're beautiful, like a nocturne or a tonality.
Now I'm just considered Sad, mad, or maybe just bad.
You were all I ever had.
Considered a pessimistic defeatist, or pragmatically the meanest,
All I ever wanted, were memories of sweetness.
But now I sit, stuck behind this glass confinement.
My feelings have been withering,
Now none left; I have become a wax figurine.
YOU ARE READING
The Assorted Poems
PoesiaLucien LeSchants gives another glimpse into the real world, one that is without filter, in his second micro collection: "The Assorted Poems"
