And so we'll all rise
Through our thickened lies and vibrant highs,
We'll suckle on teardrops of honeybees,
While hardworking nephews toil overseas.
And ponder, so angelically,
Tomorrow's new melancholy,
And vigorously deny yesterday's plight,
Dear lord, this is Mahogany!
And yet, beneath our bravado's veil,
Reality's whispers, we cannot assail.
June 2019
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...
