PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And now what has dried up is the sickness of vitality

Which was muddled in the beauties of discontent.

The careful amalgamation of self-hatred and desire

Birthed vanities of pure truths. 

Yet the sobriety of a mind muddled

Brings forth beginnings renewed.

Evolved from cursed experience

And not yet completed anew.

Beget those words snarled in the reflection

Of times poignant to nought but yourself. 

In desiring the lesser self

Be content in damning the untold chance

Of a viscous perfection of you. 

Curse upon your lies of starry-eyed memories

Of how wonderful it was to be hated by you.

How sick must one be to believe;

How addicted must one be to reminiscence?

What's dried is that which was stolen from you

From he who existed before now. 

In what sadistic world should you create a current

Which will suck you back in years to come. 

Covet not such a life retro lived,

You junkie of forged truths. 

Give invite to the unknown arrived

And take care of all that you've bruised.