The darkness envelops his small frame
Whispering lies and taunting sneers
They grow louder, so difficult to tame
As the memories return confirming his fears
All sense of control leaves his being
Leaving him empty with only guilt and regret
As his once lively soul is left dead and aging
Only to be used as a tragically beautiful marionette
And with no resistance from his aching self
Havoc is what he wreaks among those he loved
Believing that all he has is the puppeteer and himself
To get back his once beloved
In the end, he is left with broken strings
And an empty theater filled with thoughts
Of years lost and lonesome springs
As his once clear mind is made into knots
YOU ARE READING
The Darkest of Days {#WATTYS 2015}
Random{Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder - RUMI} {I believed I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be the poem- Jamie Gil De Biedma} Poetry is what you really feel deep within your soul. It's the word...
