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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required When wounds keep seeping, dawn continues to unfold~ blurred projections engrossed in dishonesty. And I wonder if the tulip moon could see the ash and dust dancing across the blue azure, mirroring the smeared lens of life, where the bitterness of torment I’ve endured, alone in agony to the sound of scars that bleed, is the familiar fragrance I’ve worn, while dressed in cobalt cold comfort, oblivious to the jewels of jasmines that await my ethereal escape from this confined cruelty. Yet in the shadow of sunlight, when fears drizzle upon weeping waves like obsidian cinders, I burn from the villainous rays that shift and crawl in a writhing pattern, to seize glistening galaxies within my powerless pulses, as I am the tragic flare of twilight, resting in a mahogany bed of lifeless lilies, listening to the cursed cadence of metallic melodies, chanted by a narcissistic puppeteer with soulless eyes, mocking the ruthless reality he fed me with finer fangs. Tonight I plead to the Universe: unfreeze the glacier walls— obscuring streaks of serenity, for I’ve long been bruised and battered, in the warm embrace of a roseate romance that melted into a lethal lake of rotten red. If being coiled within the doleful helix of redundant violence is what the future shall unveil in sinful scribes, am I to stay chained in silence, or are these the storms I shall ferry, like an odyssey lost in the hypocrisy of sinister seas, too aimless to seek a shore whiter than the ivory ladders to the Elysium. Perhaps the world must witness the tattooed trauma I hide behind woes of broken vows, unable to find the key to unlock silver gateways to healing, as I’ve dreamt that eagle feathers of the deceitful sun would wrap me in sepals of solace so radiant, unaware of the conceited clouds bursting forth blistering thistles. But I no longer want to remain as the mistress of misery, woven into the realms of grammatical errors, scattered across illiterate skies unraveling vain verses in vermilion. I’ll rise from the inked inferno, be the untamable mystery soaring above seething syllables. So let the pain I’ve tasted be the air of the spirit that sets my angst free. I’ll paint my own paradise where stains shall sprout seamless fields, and vicious vines will thrive as violet orchids. Someday the eclipsed spheres would realize, seeing the twinkling topaz within me. My silence was never a token of defeat; I am more than a victim, trapped in the flashbacks of your abuse, I refuse to ride the sickening carousel of unending oppression.
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