SIZZLE, Sizzle, sizzle.
A flame that now has died-
A glimpse into a future about to be left behind;
A form that is so inadequate, with so much said, unkind.
Why do you so torture me with promises and lies?
A place to hide my soul, and a bed in which to hide,
A Judas at its best, yet a friend in which to confide.
I know I ought not trust a form nearly immortal,
As though one day you will transform me through a portal
To a place so magical, the opposite of normal.
A place where once words glided as a fleet,
That will one day touch the world – sweep them off their feet!
But no other realm exists except the one in which we keep.
So humbly you appear – like an oasis in the desert,
You flaunt, and dance, and prance so you may now alert
The closest by-passer to experience nothing but hurt.
The hurt comes from illusion; illusion comes from lies,
Like a fallen angel, you did come disguised;
Force my trust in you, then take me as your prize.
A thousand years from today won’t make a difference now.
SIZZLE, Fizzle down,
Poetry is a flame, finally sizzled out.