An inexperienced prowess wears a mask in place of pain,
drowning in his feelings, breaking down like rain.
He bears inconceivable dreams, of being someone he's not,
painting fastidious pictures,
leaving the truth to rot.
The soldier attempts to pave a path of solitude and lies,
ignoring any liabilities, solace are distant cries,
the wind and breeze emit a foreboding tune, hoping to invest some sense,
and the fabulist's identity they are trying to cleanse.
When the picture fades into a mass of sterile paint,
a weakling, so vulnerable, his dignity becomes faint,
with contempt, the world looks down, saying he's a disgrace,
the artist lingers near another canvas, for he has mastered the 'face'.
YOU ARE READING
Reminisce
Poetry~ Words leak through minds, like too much ink does to paper. They spread silently like diseases and blossom like the non-existent amaranthine in spring. ~ (COVER NOT MINE) (All rights reserved) (A collection of rhyming poems. Part 2 out now) (Hig...
