i go to house, where
in the empty fireplace
burns fire in an image of contraire
house has no fire or grace
everything i say is a lie
if only i’d try
i lost my will to myself
in the muddy puddles stuck in my shelf
i know i'm going crazy
but in your eclectic awakening
my being is hazy
images of the lost ring
accompanied by the heart
which shuts itself in
the glass window, where your art
lies among my tainted kin
in slow dizziness it's fading
where is it going
i can’t see the stars
in my displaced forgotten rhyming
truth only becomes colors as
that is all left
among the flowers which i can’t see
i see nothing right
birch trees might die here
i listen to my life disappear
inside the comforting crackles of the
empty fire, where
can I be here
the warmth of the fire
smooths my past
like the breath
i see when the cold encompasses
my outermost soul on my eyes
why is it over
why know
the bird-tree droops in sorrow
About the Creator
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Droops in sorrow. I especially loved that! You did a fantastic job on this poem!
It's like I can visualize this - your words have power.
"the warmth of the fire smooths my past like the breath i see when the cold encompasses" I loved this part.♥️ So vivid and poetic.