Twisted Process

This is part of a song I wrote. I don't often rhyme in my poetry, but I like the way this flows. I decided to keep it as a pet.

It's another spiteful sunset
streaking madness through the trees
casting light upon my demons
who are crawling in the weeds.
Oh there's laughter from the forest
cutting deep into my soul,
just a frigid doubtful chorus
as the darkness takes control.

Now my garden is a wasteland,
and the road is overgrown,
and I'm running like a child
from the creeping black unknown,
as I'm pelted with opinions
that seek to plot my course.
Each word: an evil minion
of an all-consuming force.

I should set it all on fire
just to level out my pain.
Watch it fall in smoky spires
'til it's just a greasy stain,
and I'll stand proud in the ashes
of my vices and my sin,
knowing well that in the morning
it will all rise up again.

Reviews

[poetic soul]

it hurts so bad to know that once the beautiful garden is now a waste land!! i know this pain and you have done a gr8 job by describing the pain here in this poem... loved it thoroughly.....

Regards,
Poetic Soul

[Michael C. Sahd]

I like this one, I would like to hear the song.

[Lina Lynn]

Very well done. I agree that it flows very well. It drew me in. I look forward to more.

[TripleCK]

I like this! This really is my favorite of the day. I love the way the words flow. Very fluid yet solid at the same time. You can change it... but only if they want.
I like the part about the garden now a wasteland. Vivid. I feel this.