In the labyrinth of the mind's darkest maze,
Where shadows linger, in an endless daze,
A garden once bloomed of colors, now fades to gray,
Echoing whispers of pain and dismay.
Lost in this realm of despair, where hope forfeits,
Oh darling, we are but sad poets.
Each thought, a dagger piercing the soul,
Each memory, a thorn tearing the whole.
Through tears that fall, a symphony cries,
In the silence of night, where sorrow lies.
In this symphony of grief, our essence forfeits,
Oh darling, we are but sad poets.
Amidst the chaos, our spirits ignite,
In the dance of shadows, we find our light.
For within our pain, lies a sacred art,
A poetry of the broken, stitched with heart.
Beneath the starlit sky, our dreams soar but, reality forfeits.
And oh darling, we are but sad poets.
July 2022
YOU ARE READING
The Aspect Of Oblivion
PoetryThe planted seeds of my wretched thoughts and emotions have bloomed their way out onto these pages, birthing a catastrophic garden; a virtue of beauty. A collection of emotions and thoughts documented in words, encompassing a voyage through the laby...
