The smoke hounds the eyes of grey,
over which his soul has now become victim, the prey.
As the choirs brush against broken bells,
and the woman falls to the voice in her head that yells.
For here, there is no justice and no unity,
and here, there is a darkness that falls to infinity.
Here, your dreams will never come true,
here, the screaming woman comes for you.
And this boy is prey to these ugly means,
crippled by injustice and dark royal seams.
With the eyes of a faiblesse much atrociously worse,
that cannot be cured by even the highest of nurse.
Crying because the whispers never stop haunting,
and how the rope looks all the more daunting.
So tell me what his elasticated smile must do,
tell me how I must make his eyes shine with a golden hue.
Tell me how I can help his spirituality rise,
tell me how I can stop him from his inevitable demise.
Because I do not wish to see his tormented pries,
I do not wish to hear his words of help, his sickly cries.
I do not want to continue living this life,
and I do not want to use this bloody knife.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
