short poem.

In memorizing my fate through strung out lies,
I've doused the kerosene ridden garments in gasoline so the flame of my past would burn Brighter.

I've entered a competition of constant wishing and cursed exposition with myself that ceases to halt.
In memorizing the shattered glass patterns in droves across bedded rivers of doubt,
I have sheared myself.

Never minding the recesses dug into my skin because of the repetition.
Never minding the corrupt entropy I plague my own existence with.
Through thin weight and Thick headed persecution of men greater than I,
We have fallen into a palace of pageantry burning at its foundation from the hollowed out Souls it was built from.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed