obliterating convictions [poetry]

two

through the logic-hued sentiment i wear on my eyes

nothing is anything but a bland cell at work

to exist until a purpose is fulfilled until to withdraw from the world

but 

through my rose-colored glasses i wear

i perch them on top of the bump of my nose

i am granted an intensity so powerful yet so weakening

an oxymoron to the fullest definition

an ability to sear every corner of the scenes from the drama that writes my stories full

full of romance, glamour, and love

granted even to the devil who is the most powerful of all

in the realm of fools

do you understand the oxymoron now? 

the inverse relations of this equation? 

the sheer irony, consummate of mischief?

the only being who will never be aware of the truth I have spilled over these pages is the one whose nose is perched on with the rose-colored glasses.

-hs