My rue smudged face looks back,
As I perceive a shoulder tap.
In all his sadistic glory, he stares back at me,
His perennially etched sneer urges me to flee.
Howbeit, I stay still,
Crushing my tenuous will.
Memories trail down my spine,
Charring my skin at every touch,
As the besetting past serves me wine.
Accepting the carafe,
My lips press against the glass.
I quaff the alcohol heartily,
Let it cascade down my throat blissfully.
For I've spent countless nights dusting the relics of a bygone age,
Spent too long a time trying to escape the iron cage.
Always ending in vain,
I decide to cease this pain.
Oh callous past,
Watch me as I transform my scars,
Into beautifully stitched, eloquent tattoos.
Watch me as my wilted flowers,
Bloom to life with unfathomable power.
YOU ARE READING
Symmetry
Poetry"There is Sun and storm in every blossoming. That is where the poetry lives" All rights reserved to @destellos_, 2016.
