He likes to look at life open and surreal with absolutely no blemish;
everything that possesses beauty shall never perish.
The eyebrow hairs that decide to stand out on his face
makes his body shudder into a thousand nerves that result in a trace.
You'll live in the midst so opaque
the day you wake up with a clean soul and nothing left for the devil to take.
The price of being a walking spirit on this land
costs more than just living; but it means no worth compared to this rusty ole' hand
your personality will just be dull, blunt, yet so bland
it may not be what you have planned
or what they have had against you or banned
it may be as thick as a head of hair or maybe even a strand
but no one could come across the area of where I stand.
Sometimes you can't give enough
or what your good intentions mean, others think it's a bluff
you smooth your tracks out on the line but as you look back, they grow oddly rough
your muscles come up in show but still, you don't think you're just as tough
you would do anything for a loved one, even tear your heart out, but all they'd retort back is a huff
you look at yourself and think, "I guess I wasn't good enough."
Your nails embedd themselves onto your skin
"nothing will happen, my blood runs thin!"
You'd knock your head into the wall and exclaim it's just like tin
intoxicate yourself and drunken your mind while you spin
trot down memory lane and cut your unwounded win
because in the end, every crack you step on is considered a vow breaking sin..
YOU ARE READING
Mellifluous Murmurs
Poetry❁ Freedom is allowing the crisp air to guide you through this forest we can call society. ❁