Opened palms face opened sky,
Pour from heavens, earthly rain,
And soak in soil of my garden.
Rose bud tender grows on stem,
Scarlet scars caressed into dew,
Hold them dearest in silent weeping.
Eyes pooled with fear of roaring skies,
Fear not child of fire, water resolves,
To smoulder in rain, to be of thick skin.
Wolves watch with thirst for sin,
Wolves with hands, with knives,
Wolves that haunt my dreams.
Cry out upon silent night,
Fill empty skies with terror,
Hold within only agony.
Eagles glower, emptiness holds pity,
My heart holds pity,
My heart is but none.
Light grows dim in depth of dark,
Eagles give way to wolves,
Wolves feast on dreaming deer.
Rain to wash blood,
From silent rose,
Which haunts the ground with crushed beauty.
And in darkened lust of wolves,
Eagles cower into hounds,
And beg at their heels.
For feasting in power,
To empower hunger,
To feed fear with poison.
Corpse of deer feeds beasts,
Beasts shower better with lust,
And lust resolved by rain.
A circle pleasing to many,
But what of the deer?
Unmoving eyes dance with emotion.
YOU ARE READING
We're All Rusting
PoetryRandom poems written by yours truly Trigger warning: As these poems are written about actual life experiences that I have had some of you may find some details to be rather traumatizing, especially if you have went through anything similar. Not all...
