Inhibition Part 3
Ivory: The astonishing purity of pain, how it is altered from a mere sensation.
Precious, innocent soul
Open thy eyes,
For this world is
Abounding in lies.
There is no
Place like home,
Yet, the tombs
Feel seamless.
Those old cardigans,
Might haunt you still,
Oh, my poor soul,
Breathe.
Relieve
that veiled, unaltered
patience, that
doesn’t let you dream.
Awaken
from the
imperishable marks
of illusory joy.
Precious, innocent soul
Close thy weary eyes,
For in this world,
Contentment is disguised.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
