Another Guilty Hand

The scorn vivid lies that sit within the misunderstood chambers of my mind
Flow eternally with a sight that has been forever masked with my lividity
To obscure these tantalizing memories
That I have for yesterday’s false promises and today’s passing hours

Depression is setting in, and I do not know when I had lost my will to smile

It’s as if I am at the edge of my own optimism, with roses blooming to a blossoming doom
A rainy mood, there for all to see, although also there for me to hide
Mortified a facial surface painted with a tragic face and agony’s embrace amplified
This misery is not what I wish to speak of, but therein resides my only inspiration for a time

…Everything just seems so dead…

Intimacy has fallen into vanity, thus the sanity of our humanity is simply profane
As we no longer comprehend the weight that comes with this word known as “Love”
Or how to love as we once did
So, misfortune tied to losing such an entity creates chaos, therefore chaos ensues and I…
And I am surely another guilty hand to these grim portraits sustained sorely as our lives

Thereby, do I listen to the sounds that swing back and forth from this echoing metronome
Staring peerless-ly at the titanium instrument hoping to hypnotize myself into a state of joy
To displace an emotion cascading anguish and distress within my own private fortified studies

…Then, again perhaps I am merely lonely
Maybe, I am seeking subconsciously something other than this realm of isolation
For tomorrows can be fulfilled with untold dreams
As in the next minutes one could turn back into being an optimistic fool
Daring to fathom his, own untamed, un-tattered, reckless heart…

An act I do not recommend, and you may ask why, thus-ly I shall reply
Tell me, do these memories that I have of her, will they ever fade away from my empty eyes

~ Paradise’s Poet ~


One comment

  1. Reblogged this on thepageofdaniel and commented:
    Provocative, evocative verbal imagery, seemingly more fitting for autumn or the greyish – white wasteland of post – holiday Winter than the hot sauna days of summer when this part of Earth is seemingly equal to the inner planets of our solar system.


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