I find myself floating
on the surface of something great.
The water still
and my breathing slow
to take in the gliding of what lies beneath my back.
I float languidly
on the surface of this greatness.
Until a little voice whispers
to take the dive
and submerge myself in the cool waters of the masterpiece
that I float on.
With addled mind
and smooth movements
I turn and swim into the water.
But that little voice turns from a whisper
into a roar of laughter
as I swim so deep that I drown
in my ambitions.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
