I used to believe vision was a curse,
And knowledge it's blatant scare
Yet there were times I hid behind windows,
Rather glass, the ones we always deemed fair
Because what must be seen,
Might never be known
And what must have been said
Could always be gone to mourn
And there were moments of fleeting conscience,
When I realized I soared when I could fly
That maybe if clouds could ricochet
It wasn't really far, all needed was a try
And there were moments of unbounded guilt,
When I realized I wasn't willing of worth,
That every single marvel I birthed
Could always be sown to dirt
But through it all, there was madness
And there was wonder
There were actual pieces of wit
With golden traces of tender
And I say this with utmost grace,
There rarely goes by another sun,
When I don't worship the limitless mercy of death,
There rarely goes another distilled corner of hush,
When I don't miss the screaming mess my mind put to bed,
But there are chances,
There are chances so strong,
I might be willing to fall over
And re-sow, all in the single name of wrong
In the end,
Perhaps it could all have turned out different,
Perhaps I could have made it shorter,
But then there's always this midnight snack,
A small piece of chocolate
And it's stuck inside my throat
And maybe I don't believe in destiny
But I do call it hope
YOU ARE READING
• tainted •
Poetryi wonder if there's pride, i wonder, there's remorse my heart's a burning drought, my feet, a broken hose? glass beneath my toenails, are all those tears painted? there's dust behind the veils, or am i just tainted? [poetry] a third eye aesthetic fr...
