The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Black Ash

Sour and sickening,
my mind feels poisoned,
poisoned by so many lies.
Lonely and lost,
my soul feels as if it
has been trapped within 
a ball of sharp wire,
endlessly trying to 
release itself.
Blind and naive,
my eyes see constant
false pictures of 
hidden reality.
Grinded and crushed,
my body feels as if it
has been created into
black ash suffocating
my own thoughts like smog
dominating many minds and
souls causing them to 
become manuplatative
and black-hearted,
poisoning many others by
their words of spite and
venomous hands of darkness.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Wayne Avatar
May 23, 2011 at 4:20 PM
Great imagery of a depressive moment. I have been there, glad it doesn't last long.
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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace