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| The bruised rose,
Flails in the breeze.
The petals drop,
Slowly dissolving to the ground.
The unforgiving stem,
It's thorns now dull.
Attack the victims,
Piercing the frame of the sky.
The image it made,
The impression of misery.
It's fighting for survival,
Amongst the several pure flowers.
The casualty of irony,
The rose has final say.
It drops to the ground,
And is buried in its grave of weeds. | | |
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Tired eyes weigh
Heavily
Upon the soul,
No longer able
To focus,
But blurred,
Numbing the emotions
To nonexistence,
Wanting to close,
Creating the darkness craved
And changing the world
To encompass
The nothingness felt,
But unable to maintain. | | |
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in seas of fire: oceans of regret
a lovelorn lost, despairing spirit
agonizingly sired from dread reborn
unto the night; forsaking all
lucid dreams traveling, just watching tonight
without the weight of envy
an ocean of change, madness wrought
through clarity in time, relentlessly
warping one's emotions, the weight of the world
seemingly unforgiving, thoughts of you ease;
loneliness and despair
within the moon's glare
wrapped in comfort; a sonnet's kiss upon cheek
pleasing as I slumber
.................................... | | |
|  mourez mon ami | | |
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