The light that flickers in the distanced air;
The fog shifts; it covers my face, dispelled.
Shadows of the city emerge light-bare;
Our past pathways rudely shot to hell.
-
Desolate and aching, handcuffed and caged;
Never fully retrieved in the right shape.
Chasing us with contorted faces, gauged;
Begging to stay and still walking in cape.
-
The world around changes, good and evil;
Mixed ingredients, making cake of strange taste.
Intoxicated by crestfallen lull,
Irreversible damage to the chaste.
-
Our lives locked in monotonous rhythm.
Shimmering with colour in unsafe prism.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (1)
Those rhymes though! Love your word choices and the overall feel of this poem. You're making me feel as if the past is fluid and never really remembered correctly. Well done.