Unrelated... A series of weird and wonderful poems

My art, my destruction- Poem

I braced myself for the fall.

But I never fell.

the leaves crunched underfoot.

And they fell.

Are you weak, leaves of fall?

I am weak.

I fear the Invitable.

I become the Invitable.

I see it drawing closer every day.

I am afraid.

I have a mask.

I built it from the leaves.

I am someone else, look away.

I'm so alive.

So false.

I am...

I am mine to break.

I am mine to destroy.

Some questions don't have answers.

There is no fair to mine.

Non without pain.

This falseness is comfort.

It works, steady cogs,

it works like clockwork.

What an art of destruction.

Graced by my pathetic solutions.

But without the fineprint, they work.

I am me.

© Poppy.H.Dyer, 2011