Tricks

Tricks

The crescent moon

Bleeds silver

Pricks its finger

Onto the inky night sky

 

Then dips its bleeding light

Onto this sheet of paper

Illuminating my thoughts

Into clarity

So when people read it

They feel me

 

Crescent turns to full

Playing tricks with my mind

The more light that bleeds

The more my minds eye sees

And if I see before I’m ready

Then the moon is full of deceit

 

Into my dreams I drift

To others I sleep angelic

However inside

A storm persist

Prisoner to an incubus

Preying on the negativity

That eats at me while conscious

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Rodney Russ]

You really went inside yourself for this piece, and did not hold back. Great poem. Looking forward to reading more of your work.