I am volatile, I am Voltaire.
Bereft of pain, to speak;
This heart is strong and bare,
Yet,
Yeilding to a mind that's weak.
I am insatiable, I am Caligula.
A king adorned in tyranny;
This soul bordering mania,
Yet,
Calm enough to die for vanity.
I am foolish, I am Icarus.
Flighty and foolhearty and falling;
Such a feeling to be this high is,
Yet,
Perhaps it was too good a thing.
YOU ARE READING
Blank Spaces
PoetryAn emotive journey through the empty places we visit but never want to see. The pain, the heartbreak, trying to see hope in places there may be none. And the secrets, and yes there are always secrets. Can you see them in this dark empty space? So it...
