PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Trying to prescribe a cure for my soul,

I fell deep into this black hole.

Tuggin, strugglin, screamin.

I discovered I'd never be whole...

I thought experience would always

Help me find my vehicle

To a spherical, lyrical, miracle...

But as I scramble to scribble a sequel

To simple subtle words,

It's nothing special...

Those fatal words set in -

- it's nothing special-

Just a coincidence of my innocence

Or the essence of my grievance.

Patience is my present preference

As I am led by your guidance,

But there is no balance to your brilliance

So I cannot confide in it.

For subtlety more times than not

Seems to be one of life's better qualities-



It was there that I found you

Dreaming, longing for that knowing knowledge

One searches for.

You awake by my touch

With sweat beading down your face.

As I am your savior

And I feed you with your own starvation.



Then you. Being more interested

In the stories I tell

Have yet to know me for who I am.

And as strange as it may seem,

The pain of something been gone,

Not lost, but never there

Creeps slowly into your throat.

And you start thinking of some

Word or phrase

To give you the proper opportunity

To apologize.

But everything you know to be me

Is dead to you.

Because it's too late

For my work here is done.