PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Staring down,

Looking upon the blank canvas.

Feeling.

Reeling.



The smoke of inspiration.

The love of devastation.

The time of lost sensations.

The life of misdirection.



Floating slightly above the floor.

Staring lightly at the wall.

Walking towards the door.

Feeling it all.



A light cut,

Brazes the skin,

A small drop,

Hits the white expanse.



Daring,

Loathing,

Caring,

Killing.



Who is but the term.

The obvious oblivion.

A muse,

The thought,

Floats away,

Like the smoke in the air.



The indentations on the wall,

The punches before the fall.

Slipping into darkness,

Loved the feeling of blindness.



"You should let yourself feel love."

That’s what they all say,

They don't know,

The never showed how.



Watching the snow fall,

Covering the darkened ground.

Aching all around.



The heart bleeds,

Life leads,

Time needs.



You stay near,

Watch me fall apart.



Pained expressions,

Smiling covers the lies.



Sometimes it takes you out.

The depression,

My suppression.



The dam burst,

I had to put it back together.

Sinking into oblivion,

The gin takes away the pain,

The smile of numbness,

To not feel,

Is better then always feeling bad.



But when you’re in sight,

There’s no need to hide,

The true smile forms within.

Yet its still there,

That nagging thought.



My eyes look beyond,

See the dark doom lurking,

Inching towards my life.



Bound to ruin everything,

No matter how strong I am,

How good I hide,

It’s cursed to return.

Burst the dam once again.



You’re at a loss,

Let him enjoy the feigning happiness,

Or make him deal,

And control the disaster,

Before he looses all control.



Shot in the heart,

Looking down at the arrow in my chest,

There is no cupid on this day,

Just the dark void,

Laughing behind the eye,

While you see your reflection.



Reflected faces,

Abandoned places,

Anointed fellows,

Follow you to the hallows.



Lost and found,

Lost once more.



The trail I picked,

The life I lead,

Ends at a cliff,

Most gather supplies,

To build the bridge to the other side.

Yet I just walked,

Feeling sorry for myself,

Not getting the supplies.

There is no bridge.

No other side.

Make the best of a childhood I never had.

Make the most of an adult life I can never reach.



Anger,

It stirs,

It brews.

It claws,

It kills.



The mad young man,

Bound and beaten,

Just enough life left to keep him from dieing,

But not enough to get him up.



The mad young man,

Tired,

Old.

Yet too young to understand.

He doesn’t see,

Can't look beyond,

See over the horizon,

He's only a young man.

Only a child.

Trapped in a world where he must be an adult.



He’s become the man he despised the most,

As many a time he said he never would succumb to that.



Is on his knees,

At the entrance,

But the doors burn his hands.



Floating and Falling.

The sweet intoxication.

The taste of his sweat,

Lips,

Life.



He can't truly be the man,

Passionate,

Till he can look in the mirror and smile.



He can't be here.

The mad young man won’t let him.

He keeps the mind busy.

Keep the thoughts churning,

Sweet insomnia.



Splashes some color on the life of black,

The dark shadows,

The crimson sky,

Bleeding the light,

The sun,

Weeping in the night.



The son,

Hating the light.



The mad young man,

Laughs,

Deep and loud.

Fills the room,

Your ears,

As you watch the control he has,

As he destroys the doll,

The tears trickle away,

And only death remains.



Only death remains.