Perfect Plight
Gold and riches were going to be mine.
Maleficence not an obstacle for such prestige,
dire consequences put away, this was my time.
Decisions – beckoned decisions that beckoned more of the same.
Good intentions crash to earth, so blinded by my own guile.
The reckoning came suddenly, a rude awakening, this was no game.
All of it – gone, leaving nothing but ash.
No structures left standing, I was alone at last.
From the rubble only one thing remained,
a resolute figure, gold and riches not my aim.
My wishing wreckage, my dreary delight,
my hopeless happiness, what a perfect plight.
From here I found riches much more than gold,
a cleanly cleared canvas, a realm to behold
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.