The Angel With The Horns by anna miller
Explosion of dramatic movie shots,
The filmstrips tied in knots.
This was not the movie he wanted,
Yet these scenes trapped and haunted.
Drowning in deep clear water,
Watching his life be a victim of slaughter.
Screaming could only fill his lungs,
Push him to the side for he is too young.
Too young to know he was not dying,
Everyone around him was just lying.
The lies filled his head,
His head held together by the last thread.
Like busy bees on a summer day,
The buzzing leading him astray.
Distraught and confused,
Beaten and bruised.
Lies and deaths,
Killings and last breaths.
Was that all his life had become?
Just illusions of what was suppose to come?
Yet he knew inside his heart,
He was not going to fall apart.
He was going to rise,
For even the sharpest thorn has it's own rose.
A field of roses of a thousand thorns,
Is like an angel with a pair of horns.
Much like him.
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LIFE IN POETRY
PoetryDark, cruel & dry-humor. Three adjectives used to describe these poems, following me through my life. If a poem does not make sense, re-read with your mind open. Then if it still does not make sense, read my re-cap of the poem at the end. Enjoy r...
