as heavy as a stone
in what used to be my hope
now light as a feather
my body is in fairweather
a kiss of welcoming death
like a neighbourhood at the door
a meeting on a live wire
for a new meaning in store
your eyes are a confession of mercy
in which no world could hold me
on a pendulum on a swing
stripped of my flesh, my wings
i wish not for peace
i desire strength when no peace is
for i not need an easy time
but space when there is no light
birth of christ blood
on sleep i once was
like a waste of catharsis
apathy left to die in bliss
war on my tongue
it is my weapon in life
to win a battle of words
it is my concise demise
a confession of the kabal
to what do we seek
but a new light in our eyes
a modern mythos of mayhem
YOU ARE READING
if not human
Poetrythe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark
