Hope is a martyr that shimmers through ember,
And the mind is laden with thoughts driven to hinder,
And to learn to be the gladiator in the land of the dead,
Means learning you're a creation to which God has fled,
Golden in the morning and foul in the dead of night,
Everyone wants to become king with a malicious appetite,
Aspire to derive pleasure in the appearance of the scum,
To be praised and worshipped as the messiah promised to come,
Yet the only pleasure derived is that of the flesh,
Earthly and shallow much like graves suited for death,
Disappointing discovering life can become dismal and bleak,
Forcing your fictitious role as the wolf among sheep,
We discover the blunt truth towards our one true finale,
And we celebrate life in our miniscule but bona fide glory.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Side of the Moon
شِعرBitterness, trials, doubt, and resentment can shape someone into an embodiment of strength and resilience if worked properly. A collection of poems taking readers on a journey proving that woes can turn into wins.
