Friday, September 21, 2018

All Despair Who Enter This Place



                    We are carried into this world by lovely angels and
                    tormented by living demons from then on,
                    they seek you out in destitution and resistance is futile,
                    though you may find many comforts the only
                    residence you'll ever dwell is through the harrowing storm
                    with heavenly gods, but the stroke of reality pelts you 
                    down to the ground, there amongst the viable mortals
                    who deem you as some subversive monster;
                    your shoulders carry the burden of guilt,
                    and your mind wilts in shame, dying, 
                    your blossomed dreams are but nightmarish tragedies, 
                    you can no longer fly away to this blissful glade,
                    your anchor's a wooden cross, chained to your soul,
                    to remind you life's a wicked joke paid in full by
                    the loneliest fool. 

                                   by John Hardesty 

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Mornings Are Hell

The mornings bring their misery and reassurance  of my life’s decline, hollow the marrow of life, empty the cup of hope and filled the plate...