Passion Flower Dreams 

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Emotions

A bleeding heart
A bleeding mind
Worn boldly on my sleeve
Yet…
The mask still hides all
Nobody cares to see underneath
Nobody seems to hear my pleas
Crying in silence
Tears falling in darkness
Weeping brings anger to others
Though I’m not sure why
So the mask stays
Tears leaving invisible scars
Untraceable self-harm
The world turns a blind eye
Fear takes control
Turns sorrow into paranoia
Am I cursed
Am I the problem
How do I remove the problem
Would others even notice
Should I remove the problem
They still can’t see beyond the mask
While my heart hemorrhages
Both sleeves permanently stained
Blatant, obvious
Wordless suffering
Endless torment
Can nobody see past the facade
My lies of happiness
My dishonest joy
Thousands of fraudulent smiles
To keep others pleasant
So they could never know my true pain
Though I desire for them to dig deeper
A constant conundrum
Of what I think I want
And what I’m not sure of
An exhausting battle
All behind the lighthearted mask
Except my heart
My bleeding heart
Sliced with depression and uncertainty
Blackened by hatred of self
Thickened with envy and lust
For the life I see in others
The grass is greener on the other side
While I forever drown in woe
Brought on by my own misery
I am aware
I am so painfully aware
Of what I do to myself
And yet…
I cannot break the cycle
I’m a poison, a lethal toxin
Killing those around me
Behind this mask filled with laughter
How can they realize it’s me
Nobody suspects what they deem as
The good person
But I will always know
Of who I truly am inside
A mendacious thief of life
A dedicated torturer of self
And a perfect butcher of emotions


Bones of Saints

A long forgotten marker
From a less memorable time
Weathered by sun and storm
Stone covered in lichen
The symbol barely visible
None know of the secrets beneath
A labyrinth tomb kept away
Hidden from prying eyes
Safe from hands of theft
Though no riches lie below
Only the broken remains of souls
Yellowed bones with chips and marks
Lifeless forms etched with runes
Their story never to be told
Of the day the world collectively bled
Of the day ancient evil awoke
Water and sky became crimson
And no mortal dared stopping it
None except a courageous few
They gathered from around the globe
Uniting as brothers under a common banner
It took the lives of every one
To send the evil asunder
A mutual defeat of both sides
Darkness dragging the men underground
So their legend could never live on
So their names could never be praised
To this day no one can fathom
What transpired so long ago
But the earth will always remember
What was done to save it
That’s why if forever preserves
These deserving bones of saints


A Blue/Purple Evening


Fall Color


Scars and Hellfire

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She wears her scars
As her best attire
A wondrous dress
Made of pure Hellfire
Worn for ever occasion
No matter how dire
Her permanent marks
Are something of desire
For when she moves
Angels sing in choir
Even the gods see
How she fells the spire
How she perseveres
Her dream to be a flyer
Despite marks on her skin
She proves to be a climber
Even when she spoke truth
And they claimed her liar
Because of her bravery
When the weak cower
Desiring not fame
But of things finer
Proving all wrong
Including mother and sire
She always stays strong
Never will she tire
After all that happens
She remains a fighter
Through good and bad
No matter what will transpire
As she wears her scars
As her best attire
Her wondrous dress
Made from pure Hellfire


Graceful


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