by Ya----Na   Mar 11, 2019

Treat me like the trash,
crush me up into a powder
or burn my fragile soul
in the wind of your harsh words.

there isn't any escape left
from the bars of oppression
yet I will strive till the last drop
to become the beautiful beginning of a bitter end.

I so desire to be that verse
written within the essence of her dreams;
the colors of imagination in the palette of her iris;
a metaphor to describe
that heaven exists in her heart
or to flow as a trail of tears from her eyes.

Can't this be enough
to let me breathe in the ink of forgiveness?
Should I lay down beneath the blocks
to perform in that musty theater
among the dead flock
upon the crescendo of silence one last time?


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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by Mortal Utopia

    This is beautiful. I love the imagery so much.

  • 4 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    My, this is deep and so beautifully worded with imagery that
    stands within the readers eyes...well penned,...take care

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