|
| |
Moment
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown, but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom-
Maya Angelou
Reality may be a poetic cocktail of pistachio and pecan,
yet it tastes the same as bittersweet betrayals,
saturated in plum flavors of pain.
There’s no antidote without a verse woven in vain,
feeding fire of life with red threads of fate,
hanging on fiery jewels ornamented across a phoenix gate.
Ostracized from a cautionary tale that lacks the essence of an empath,
oblivious to wicked winds of flames burning every truth written in temporary stillness.
But, the world that I love hates me in sheer shades of shame,
shoving my needs to a chained chamber-
of the saint and the sinner lost in an already designed game.
And I question in prose of mutilated rhymes,
will I ever heal in hell that shattered my will to flee from senseless spells?
for the devil bought and sold me to the malignant valleys.
Now I’m throned in trickeries painted with multicolored masquerades and toxic trinkets.
When battles fought are of emperors leading unseen wars,
I am caught in a moment where melancholic musings engulf my midnight sun,
I ponder, does the silent bird feel the weight of its wings?
Or are we confined eagles lured with rose diamond dreams,
still surviving through stolen songs of the damned woodland crickets?
unable to let go and attain an eden with no history of scandalous sagas.
We are in search of starry nights that will never dim their rays upon our souls,
as only in darkness can you see the light that consoles:
aching hearts in search of clustering comets cloaked in implicit desires and love beyond gold spun galaxies.
Copyright ©
Ink Empress
|
|