the blades of veracity were unsheathed from my labyrinthine wounds.
a beautiful motif they carved within me -a crimson artwork;
twisting and turning, slashing and hacking a path to the heart,
to deliver a gift -the panacea for all incorporeal deficiencies.
for with them, you see, they carried the unsullied truth.
free of subjectivities, without selfish affinities and grody schemes;
it was the antidote that would soon neutralize the tenanted toxins.
paving its way through my psyche was quite the agonizing affair to be sure;
the delegates of the brain are not familiar with peaceful processions-
-the pain must precede the peaceful concessions.
and yet before the pain reached its striking peak, it stopped.
and so did my heart's harrowing shrieks.
YOU ARE READING
𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗬 ᵖʳᵒˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ
PoetryA collection of prose and poetry on various subjects. Exploring the depth of human emotion and understanding through words and rhymes. ....... #1 in poetry 23/12/22-25/12/22 #1 in thoughts 10/10/21 (out of 83.1k) #1 in adage #1 in prosecollection #...
