Blurred Lines

My thoughts drift in like the morning mist,

of a story ought lost and never found.

Deep in a forest caught up in Winter's kiss,

comes the tale of the prince who smiled upside-down.

Collected scenes from twisted, lucid dreams,

spawned from wicked ways and misspent days.

Beginning with a whisper, from the muse of lucent grace:

"What has become of my precious King?

The melody that called my heart to sing

isn't here to welcome me into his embrace?""

Her light upon the earth had dawned-

a Queen emerged from the triumphant pawn.

Free to roam the untamed wilds

with all the wonder of a child.

Armed with naught but her torrid guile

concealed behind a vibrant smile.

But now shadows had crept within the verdant halls,

slipped through the cracks in the branch-sewn walls,

of the home she'd known since her long odyssey

from the lands of myths and fantasy.

There, upon the throne of their withered palace,

she found the missing half of her lovers' chorus.

"Your pristine glow dare not pierce this veil,

the swirling tendrils of this umbral gale

drowning me in it's smothering cloak

of night-black fear and desolation's smoke.

Ready to swallow any forlorn soul

that dares to take on the hero's role-

seeking the innocence the demons stole-

before their corruption takes it's toll."

His words scored lines in her pearly facade,

doubt for the first time within her clawed. 

"You know as well as I, my fate to you is tied-

bound together until the day we die.

Let me stay within your world a while,

I'll help your heart and mind reconcile..."

***

This tale I find helps me clarify

the dissonance that only seems to magnify

every time my hand stumbles over itself,

as if it found itself short of breath

from all the screams it scratched in stone.

Preferring the company of echoes to being alone.

I still can't figure out what it means to be

this person unexpectedly 

selected by Chance or Destiny

to brandish a pen so recklessly

without the means to effectively

find any comfort in its sincerity.

Cause the only glass I've found here is empty

as the solemn walls standing between me

and the warmth I know only from my memories.

Nights of vivid nightmares penned

only to struggle just to wake up again.

Knowing it's not a matter of if but when

that I'll find even that meager effort a waste

of the life I barely had a chance to taste.

Every step I ever took, I now retrace.

So please, leave me in this gentle dream,

or paint me anew in another scene.

Somewhere nestled in the arms of Spring,

softly whispering a tune serene.

Somewhere lost in a meadow between

peaks of gold and seas of green.

Somewhere hope is not simply the latest thing

to bring my world down crumbling.

Author's Note

There's a scattered nature to this poem that I particularly hate, but at the same time couldn't be MORE reflective of my current self. This disease has dashed my focus to the four winds, and - while I know it basically ruins this piece - I simply don't know how to fix it in my current state. Maybe one day I'll come back and polish off the thick layer of rust covering it's veneer... but for now, it's post it or abandon it.

Reviews

[Nolo Segundo]

Would most of us could compose a poem this 'hateful'! I noticed your rhyme scheme is a bit more complex, or varied than some of your other work.