Now halt the rhythm of your words,
lest you wish to face the wrath of these herds.
And let me sputter through my nonsensical vaults,
for you have become the reason for these bleary thoughts.
And before I reach the apex of death,
I wish for you to heed what I have yearned to yell.
I wish to tell you to which sorry extent,
you have brought me to be under the wrath of your spell.
And now I have said my sorry due, so come forth and sing,
sing me this lovely duet of sorrow and wings.
Sing me this sonnet of color and woe,
for now I realize that I have come to be your foe.
So now let me tumble into the abyss of these caves,
let me be taken away by the waves.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
