Remains

I have found a means to numb myself

To remove what confounded heart is left

For if what remains of it should break

All meaning in my breath will melt and I pray

Nothing will matter but my rage and hatred

...and I suppose what remains of myself

Removed? I fear it is a monster with nothing

To prove... A one eyed thing, a furious storm,

Hell bent to return what pain was made to rest.

No love remains if the only gift left is death...

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

stark reality of a life without hope nor joy ..we are humans and frail ..once the slope is taken the slide becomes more and more steep and slippery until as your poem states ..nothing is left ..but what i would call the mindless rage and hate of Hell .. dark, foreboding poem for sure .. takes one to the extreme of those days that challenge us ..well done says i!
E.