Prose and cons
Concealed as blind concern
Don’t bother raging
Against a dying light
Stubborn old
Rude, greedy, volatile pathology
You are a living nightmare
Lay down
Quietly
Consummate the darkness
With the second nature of your invisible skin
Bury the of hope of truth with the persistence of restricted silence
A safer bet than fat questions
Which pose too great a threat
To that fire in the sky
Who reigns supreme
Through inherited trust
And agency
Such joy!
Bows to No One
Seated before them like an idling barricade
Blown over by a whining whisper
You never once thought it would be easy
But this
Belabored, punishing game of wits and wounded ego
Is too much for wasted devotions
And challenged perceptions
To bare
Hardly the promised efficacy
Of an unwanted gift
Your ribbed cage
Can’t save you now
Breathe in
Breathe out
The sun
Also rises
~
This is another beautiful poem/post, E.—such emotion packed into a small space. Question: Has the “Sun” become mired within the dark clouds of heinous acts by broken humans, rather than the light above that ghastly layer of woe—a refuge beyond earthly evils?
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Thanks Trish. Your question sounds like a poem. May the metaphors never end!
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