What do you call the feelings that creep
The instigator of actions that whip
Things that grips the heart
Pulls smiles like horses dragging the cart
Takes portions of the soul
Leaving only misery as it goes
Biting the broken skin
Making the eye's light dim
Hopes and dreams slim
Regrets and memories
Rushing reveries
Imagined ceremonies
Things you can't hold, fantasies
What do you say that it is
All the gathering of this
Emotions that could kill
Emptiness nothing can fill
Dreams of running on the sea
But in the moment never as you see
What do you call this nightmare
This ridiculous snare
That seems inescapable
And renders you incapable
Of achieving the simplest objective of smiling
And lifelong goals of merriment and laughing
What do you call it, if not a bitter cane
...a cold stabbing relentless pain
YOU ARE READING
Wicked
Poetry...If I tell you you're my sun and moon If I tell you you've completely unwrapped my cocoon If I tell you I'm still alive Because I find life in your eyes If I tell you this emotion is wicked And even if it kills me, for hell or heaven, I'm prepared...
