PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Damnation,
It's the only word,
Death,
Maybe that, too.

Solid, pure, life;
Emotional, logical,
Bright vibrant colors,
Interlocking, interacting.

Change is inevitable:

Day to day,
Routine and mechanical,
Love is the last rose,
Scent, pricks, color.

Smell the rich perfume,
Turn to watch it,
Beautiful, lingering rain,
Seeing it, wanting it.

Pick it up!
And then you are damned,
Damned to want more!
And that's all that gives you meaning.

Life has lost its color,
Dull, black, muffled sounds,
Old and played out,
And you hold onto it desperately.

It pricks, it pokes,
And harder you grasp,
When everything falls away,
Bleeding, dripping blood.

You lose your hue,
And what is left behind?
An ill being,
Still more to want!

To find meaning, to find life,
And another rose, to pick up,
Strangling it in fear of losing it,
Bleeding yourself out of all emotion.

And that is when,
You are nothing more,
Than colorless,
Glass.