LotusA Poem by Darren BrownI allowed my father's death when I was 8 to define me for far too long. It was a typical case of the ego deriving a sense of self through suffering I had experienced. This is the rebirth.
Was eight years old for ten years,
so I hung him in his gloomy forest. Alchemical miracles; tears transmute into cement. From his chest erupted hundred of kissing wildflowers, back like the Red Sea, his tired spine extending and rooting itself in grey soil. All of a sudden, the trees wept amber as thousands of moths crawled out of their cocoons. Looked like flying clouds of ash in the bleeding sky. © 2014 Darren BrownFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorDarren BrownCape Town, South AfricaAboutI use poetry as a means to come to a deeper understanding of myself, and the world that I'm a part of. So most of my work is a combination of introspective and extrospective, figuring out how I relate.. more..Writing
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