A Spectacle of colors washed away the dreary;
looking out the glass, the sun shined through clearly.
Silent sense serenity, but in the midst of all my thoughts,
a calm kind of deathly gloom that lingers - And rots.
To think I sent it down below the waves of blue,
the ripples brought it back, that gesture wasn't due.
Behind the mask of sun and what loves to help me smile,
is a dark red moon that only visits once a while.
But now that I look out, and I definitely see the sun.
It's just the fact of knowing, that makes me shake a tone.
That somewhere ahead and behind is the red,
and the billow of dread that will order me dead.
Not kindly enough have I argued myself,
I have bit on my skin and I have shred up my health.
But to pens and patience with a whole pages fleet,
is where I must find my final retreat.
To stand on one leg and to lean on one knee;
I'll fight as I write to the demons in me.
To let them know that I have taken up this arm,
and they'd better wake up - This be their final alarm.
As they sit in their thrones all godly and gold,
I burst open the door and wake them with the cold.
The cold of gun, pointed dead in their face,
I'll finish it then, 'bang', Ink splatters the place.
I pick up a spare, and turn a blank page.
It is now that I end, and I start a new age.
Calling all words, before the orders I take breath,
And I release to the battlefield until I space a 2D death.
A/N --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is where I find retreat. I release all emotion through poetry, and it has helped me through the worst. Without a place to express myself, I dunno where I'd be. Instead of dying out here, I put my deathly feelings onto paper to rid them from my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Congestion
Poetry#24 in meaningful May 2019 - This book is a collection of some of my best works of poetry, as said by others who have read them on separate sites. I have written over 400 poems, these are some of the good ones. I try to make my poetry meaningful for...
