Untitled

The world slows its pace
All knowing, a conscience without a face
It shines and lives, but not absence of darkness nor death
It sinks its teeth into her and takes away her breath
Once sewn together and tightened with bliss
Now tattered and torn, and lean with emptiness
Could I watch her ruined? Could I witness her demise?
Can she understand the allusive uncertainty clinging to my eyes?

The horrid confusion if the world stopped its pace
To bind her in time, and tangle her in place
What a young spirit you would have assumed
She's dressed in her youth, and had already been consumed
Her quintessence, all above and beneath
Grinding down her being, with content teeth
Could I watch her in ruins? An audience to her demise.
Or could I stick my fingers in my ears and simply close my eyes?


She feels entombed in her flesh and she's not the only one
The pain fires off in her just like a gun
It's the end of her world, and she crumbling inside
All of this darkness and no where to hide
Nothing but guilty pleasures, and violent delights
To keep her safe and warm through these lassitude nights
Trying to sober up perpetual misery
Am'i afraid to watch her ruined or end up like me?

Reviews

[Luke Rawlings]

I was initially drawn here by your profile pic, and I was not disappointed. You are skilled, and your poem's allegory is strong. I like it :)