A chain made of halos from fallen angels binds me to the darkness
An existence subdued by the malignance that stalks from within
The pain envelops me, wringing out these last few drops of hope
Unspoken torment feasts on the binding of my soul
Shadows lurking in the corners of my mind, undetected, waiting for my weakest moment
The assault, like a flame to paper, is instant and unforgiving
That bright flicker soon gives way to the smoking ash of defeat
The remnants of my rumination scatter in the wind
The ghost of a breath, whispering upon the edge of your ear
The secrets of sacrifice, dancing playfully across your subconscious
Cognition lingering, just out of your grasp
This lapse of lucidity permanently enigmatic
4 comments
I’m glad that you’re still alive. And beautiful (yet sad) writing as always.
Alive, yes. Not well……but alive. And as always, thank you.
I’m sorry that life hasn’t been kind to you. It saddens me that nobody else ever reaches out and comments on your posts. I wonder why. Art is supposed to be the ultimate expression of your soul! Can they not take art seriously? This is REAL pain…
I wish you all the best, old friend.
Just here for an outlet, no worries kid.