Like this, can’t you continue?
Holding your deluge of thoughts within you?
For a poet’s craft is so praised
Because it takes true feeling, shouts it from the stage
But still conceals the fuel for your heart’s blaze
Do you find solace?
Waiting in your mind’s palace?
Sifting through ballads, fiddling with fantasies?
When you’ve gazed again at reality
Will your illusions still stoke your pride?
Look to the bridges you’ve burned
And remember your lost vigor
Was there a lesson learned?
Oh, coming on weakly means you’ll never win
A fool waits for pity and never sees their chance again
Cold burns the fire in hatred’s hollow stead
Long frozen are the ashes after laughter’s demise
Silence in disaster’s wake comes as no surprise
So I can’t yet begin
To cross the soul’s hidden mire
And observe my self-defined sin
While you hide behind mirrors and veils of shame
Keep your harsh eyes ahead
And admit that you, that I’m to blame
In my own critique
my poet’s subtlety is shed
Be First to Comment