PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am caught in a ocean tainted by the fierceness of a storm

Raging and swallowing every life in sight

My personal armageddon, the world's consequential horror

To lose and have lost--I have been



The abundant and bright sun does not glisten anymore,

But stain the very living corpse that I am--

And exist to be--

As I become--

What i've always become.



I am lost, with hands once extending,

Now lost.

To take upon a sword would be something inviting,

But yet fearful would the virgin be in the eyes of the tainted

And criticized would she be for wallowing in the existance of youth.



Youth you say?

With each tear and evil grasp, I shudder.

I never thought at the age of twelve,

I'd undergo such tulmultous horror



Serpentines and figure eights,

Circles and unending ovals

You think me troubled--

But only I have the lines to continue the broken line



Lonely, am I.

Have I spoken to many this morning?

Never have I, and never will I.

I wish for something I can never have,

And what I do have, is slightly getting old.



A problem.