Withered,
Aged,
Deflated,
Fatigued -
Such is my weary soul
That has grown much too old
In a couple of days-
My face hides dark thoughts,
Eyelids concealing hatred,
Venomous hatred that spews
And overflows wantonly.
Careful to catch it,
'Fore it plummits to its death,
I cusp my palms
In a sign of artful remembrance
Of that silent breath,
The collective cadence,
Danger and radiance at once-
Turmoil overfloweth.
Disaster overted,
Eugenics dismissed
In a series of quarter notes
And soft woodwind refrains.
Like the trickle of despair
That raps the windowsill,
That taps the roof shingles,
I am tired - tired of waiting.
I will close the gap
Between love and hatred,
Between melody and dysintery,
Between bliss and hellfires.
Comments
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What a description of how our hearts and souls are easily tormented, we do get tired of waiting on so much, I just love how you captured those thoughts and emotions. A wonderful well written piece. Blessings.
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