The voice of reason screams
soft obscene lyrics; slowly dying in
the arms of a love it may never know
Towards the untold story
the slow procession
of dying thoughts
grinds to a sobbing stop
bound to a wheel of juvenile ideas
All the while anger grows in
wilds weeds of depression
fostering suppressed memories
wrought in fallacy and fancy
The leaves of love wilt in the
fanciful gardens of oblivion
and danger blooms silently
Comments
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I like this poem. The imagery is nice. I like the way you spaced things out, line wise. It puts a good emphasis on things. Just keep in mind that sometimes there's such thing as too much imagery. ;] It makes things kind of hard to read in the sense that it has to be read and reread. Though that's a pretty neat trick. =P
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