Poetry for the downtrod

--------Blind walk---------
Gray mist rises through a dense fog
Hallow night
Arctic cold
Damp air
Shadows prance in ghoulish delight, mocking
Skyward trees reach for light
Down below I grope for ways.
The air is dead.
Trotting through lifeless sand
Encumbered by a desolate dark.
Chilling winds sing for the dead at heart.
Write me a sonata
Praise my undoing
Songs for the mourning
Treats for the living dead.


-------Wasted life-------
The silence is serene
Disturbing in a way
The heart beats, but to a silent tone.
A chime resonates through empty space
Endless, yet useless.
The gates will soon being to shut
Contempt and regret
If only I had…
Then you would
But you shouldn’t
Now you can’t
If only I had…


--------Torn heart-------
I stand, I sit, I ponder.
Sifting through the sands of time
The game of a cunning fate

So delicate yet strong breasts
A delight to the senses
The radiance to illuminate
The game of a cunning fate

Keen and playful
Thoughtful and sincere
Naïve but perceiving through knowledgeable eyes
The soul of a child, ever so real
Undeterred by the shame of the world
The game of a cunning fate

A caged beast, sensing life and freedom
Overwhelming is the desire
Coursing through the veins is the urgent need
The utter necessity
Friction and pressure
Taste freedom, taste life.
But just as sands sift through our fingers, so does she.
The wretched contortion of our reality
DAMN YOU!
The game of a cunning fate



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