The Sadness, He Felt


“You are what you most dislike, a blue reflection of your electric eyes,

What we passed on, we protect the hateful past,

Glistening ice of another night and some other,

Grasping at that time in spite,

Will you stay tonight and lay with yourself in green,

In steaming heat,

The useless price of your own, so empty, so ashen thoughts of flight,

Of what’s right, her dearest, sightless height,

Will you take the greatest,

Cracking the pinned up butterflies of someone’s life,

Visage through glass,

Listening to the painful cries in the sad sad throats of birds,

and festivals continue their happy tune and sell it all away. 

In hands you hold those bones,

What was once yourself is now something else,

And you mourn so bravely,

Grieve so gravely. 

Meet her in the hall of statues, golden globes all topped with malice,

Decorate your face with the drippings of disgrace,

Collect your heart inside your chest and place it abreast

that of the sincerest vessel you’ve ever had the chance to undress,

And you will never find that beautiful and violent image

you’ve searched so long to create.

Fade away slowly and surely,

All of your might will do naught in this fight, so run to the light,

I know how it shears you apart,

I know how it tears at your heart,

I know how it rips all control,

I know it extracts its toll,

I know how it drains all your blood,

I know how it stains all your clothes,

I see how you lie on the floor, I feel, how I cry for your

Poor little soul...”


How I weep on the ground, next to that dark, cold wall.

The End

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