glazed, the opportunist struggle of the bacterium
can I dream? I can see but I cannot hear
the winds that whip through the strains,
The drains, the streams the run away from my deep well of
pain. Do I feel pain? Am I a programmed puppet,
They say a marionette feels most free being manipulated by their strings
The reason why Orpheus
braved the underworld
Yet could not find the strength to not turn
To make a glance at
Why must I differ? I suffer? I sent the desire of the day, dripping like a slow drip of melting wax
I long as a slippery cat in the alley as I sip the concentrated nectar of the night, so jewel indigo and green
Storms that haunt my heart
Storms that haunt
I'm so angry with myself for golden woes
For silver muses that churn storms into
Death.
——
A companion to this poem.
About the Creator
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Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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Compelling and original writing
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Comments (5)
I love when I read someone's writing and can easily fall into the story their telling. This is definitely one of those pieces. But even more, I like that you added music that made it so I was fully immersed in your poem's world. wonderful!
This is a beautiful writeup Melissa.
"They say a marionette feels most free being manipulated by their strings" Oooo, this line was so deep! I loved that you wrote this as a companion to your other poem. So well done!
Your writing is remarkable!
Nicely done. I understand the lost muse. Maybe something will be left behind after the storms. We can only hope.