PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

May it be the deterriorating life dawning upon the day

Or the constant struggle enclosing a soul to a cell

Rotting, dilapidated and old

Its innocent voice clinging to happiness

Yet slipping into fervent waters

Of the most disasterous flesh.

An open wound for a sigh

Squinted- shut eyes for a moment of relief

Cessation of hope and charred dreams

Insignificant value to a voice so strong

Nevermore to rise, hearing the footsteps of the lost

The clanking of their high heels,

Drowning out the loss.

Many of them study knives

For they want to welcome pain

Or welcome disease,

For the pure fascination of the unknown

Such blood infested with dirt

Infections billowing at an undiscovered core

And the hate burning inside upon the moment

Shall be relinquished when the truth is known

The soul is closing up -

A speck hardly noticable to even the trained eye.

A recluse, now welcomed into the light.

And sent into a session

A sort of - recession

To live life in agony, again.