Written 3/28/2020 at 3:35a
Have you ever been convinced
That someone was set out
To destroy you
In every single way possible?
Well, this is for you...
Three o'clock in the twilight
Has always been considered
The witching hour.
That eerie time when souls
Cross over from the Unknown realm.
The flames of living souls
Dance and prance together freely.
Demon eyes are beady
As they study the forbidden dance that has
No form.
They're all so forlorn...
Because, the souls they are eternally
Destined to trap and collect
Are few and far in between.
It's more serene than it seems
To us, anyway.
It's a ploy to play the devil's game
On both sides as opponents.
One has choice
To create a solid name or
Become fatally maimed by their tragic fates.
There's a steadily approaching date
When we all are called away.
Like an ocean's sway of waves
We disappear into the abyss.
We are horrifically amiss.
The harrowing dread of not knowing
The final destination.
Patience is the one thing we rarely ever learn.
The time is nigh,
The ending near.
Will you be righteously freed or brutally speared?
Virtuously tried or wrongfully cleared?
Every action doesn't require
A reaction in sociology.
Especially, not a negative to
One's positive.
The wasted woes of worry and crying
Will have you feeling
As if you're morbidly dying.
You're not.
I can assure you.
A vast lot of blessings await you.
Remain faithful to your
Life's purpose.
Break the surface of the hardened mold.
Always choose innovation over age old.
Paint the original story of you, untold
By the new age prophet of
The modern Renaissance
Enlightenment.
There's a far brighter end
At the exit of the darkest tunnel.
A blinding sin and
The seed of a deed of a Samaritan.
It may seem like an
Unending tsunami funnel
Of crushing anxiety and precious desire.
We all tire of the tumultuous ride.
The hard decision to
Just conform and oblige.
Or, maybe the possibility
To go completely rogue and become a
Vigilante of the Templars.
Assassins of lies and cyber wars.
The persistence of due
Diligence keeps us alive.
Think of pride as a shell behind the
Killer complex hive of individual barriers.
Even still, It's scarier alone.
Upon one's throne,
What's a monarch
Without an army?
You're charming enough
To get this far.
It's warming to the touch
Of a lost star.
YOU ARE READING
Survivor's Remorse
PoetrySurvivor's Remorse is a personal collection of poetry, songs, lyrics, prose, and more that ranges from the early 2000s through 2023 when I finally decided to start a new poetry book! Thank you immensely to anyone who has taken time to read this book...
