It is nothing but a bitter pill to swallow,
which I do with pensive smiles.
And in this cave I can only wallow,
whilst my tears fall over the matted tiles.
And it hurts to keep trying and trying,
when I know there is no remedy for this.
And maybe that is why I am not afraid of dying,
because this world I realize I would not miss.
As I really hate feeling such an odious blue,
whilst these spiders crawl over me.
But I cannot help myself from dreams come true,
as my old self I truthfully wish to be.
For I hope this is just a phase,
and I aspire that it does not last.
Because it has been so many days,
since I had those moments of the past.
And now I cannot sire my mind,
which tumbles into this contagious prowl.
And my well of wishes I cannot find,
arising in this fire so odiously foul.
And it is absolutely enraging,
to be kept in this laughter of lies.
Because these hands are only caging,
around my throat to silence my cries.
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...
