PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

With so much to say and nothing to write,
How does one express the beauty of sight?
When one can only see with their own eye.
With such a convoluted farce, why try?

So, much of what is said holds little sway.
Recycled and repeated; garbage it will stay.
Leaving this mind congested with emptiness.
Left only are the echoes of loneliness.

What happens to those with the open heart
As it leaks within until they depart.
Never able to release nor to relent
Due to nature's cruel and conniving content.

Forever outnumbered and always silent;
Caged angels repenting and so compliant.
Fallen from high and screaming to the deaf;
A warning to all, until they meet death.

So we try love, with its sweet childish dreams.
But the cold corrodes and limbs tear at the seams,
Breaking fantasies of epic intimacies,
Destroyed daydreams; ageless beauty fallen to its knees.

With each year that passes and wisdom given only to the wise.
How does one grow within the weeds of clarity that often dies?
And as the tunnel of time turns, only continuing for some
While others become blind as the pieces slowly come undone.

So when the sorrowful only speak of constant sorrow
And of lives they want, or faces they wish to borrow.
Why do we turn our heads and hide our smiles?
Brow-beating benevolence to the land of denials.

Forsaking them there to grow old, withered and grey.
Left with memories all remembered a different way.
Winter coming and going as their bones start to creak.
Leaving them to gaze at the mighty and spit upon the meek.

So is the destiny for those who've forgotten to speak.
Wretched and wanton, angstful and soon becoming antique.
Remembered but never known and full of spite.
With so much to say and nothing to write.