Here the walls are silent
these white faces have naught to reveal.
By degrees when these placid,
pallor laced paints peel off like dry unwanted skin,
you find only dull cement.
Tell them stories; of forgotten childhood and discarded dreams,
they console with astounding stillness.
Nail them till rubble spurts out and hits your eye
like squirting blood of enemies.
They will not whimper or wail a dying wish.
YOU ARE READING
A Blue Mind
PoetryA collection of poems of desire, anger and love. Stemming from the need to express, through words elusive and eloquent. PS I'm merely a beginner, hence any suggestions on improvements will be welcome. :)
