Cruel Compassion, Collaboration With the Silent One

My mind is a puzzle of cryptic metaphors. whilst searching for my sanity, I've become my own worst enemy. In this cauldron of despair, time is like sand in my hand - an oxymoron poetic paradox of cruel compassion. Sadistic green eyes bring my demise, as my sighs are captured by the wind, slowly morphed into madness and travesty. I sit alone on the throne of midnight illusions, cursed by dark imaginations lingering like mouldy air, as vivid flashing images engrave inkstained imprints. Dripping lament from a palette of black and white, colouring in the emptiness of my sensitive soul. In echoing whispers of weeping violins, whimsical vibratos from wooden wind-chimes, steadily orchestrate instrumental sonatas, ringing through my strained metallic heart, whilst I try to strum strangled strings, harmonizing an inconsistent symphony of a tragedy. Fate has me stranded within a monotonous loop of uncertainties, for when twilight’s last breath piercingly eclipsed over lyrical edges of my insomniac shadow, it awoke restless beasts of nocturnal nights - in nightmares I wondered does no one hear my screams? i can see dazzling dusts of black diamonds, drizzle manuscripts of maniac irony translating dialects hidden behind unshed tears that gleam like shooting stars, as i sing mystical moonbeams, sewn with silver sequins of euphonious memories on refrain, chorused from nameless tunes of timeless tomorrows, as the magic of the maestro, residing in the highest bridge of sanguine skies, guides these electric fears, trapped between synchronized layers of my unsettled skin. I'm tired from intangible tears in the mirror, slowly sinking me in swirls of sorrow, like a bruised creature seeking shelter in a silk cocoon, so this aurora's smile is no longer a masquerade. I hunger for rays of sunlight to paint my skin in a plethora of pastels, so this golden bronze queen, can once again glitter in a crown of illuminating heartbeats.