Tears breeding foretold fits of agony
A life almost never really lived-
Could result in the most beautiful death.
Weeping shades of cozened crimson,
Reason wanning as it seeps from our veins.
Flesh graced with red designs
And faith littered with painful scars.
Past mistakes merely make room for new ones.
Lie about your origins-
It can't change what you are.
Whisper more musical deceit...
You said, "la petite mort'
(as you let yourself fade)
And I was left in silence, wondering;
"How small could one death be?"
(but did that ever matter?)
Why do you hope for a future;
When you can't define your own past?
Sorrow leads a hail of mental storms,
Winds race; hidden behind starless eyes.
If I let go- will the rain then cease?
Can you find your peace without me?
I inhale the biggest impact of every fall-
Your eyes smile at each bruise and scar.
And I still let you call me your savior.
As I confess a lazy diatribe,
let my requiem hang in the air-
and my eulogy's written
across a star-scattered night sky.
"don't ever regret letting go of who i was...
Just hate me for who i could never be." |
Submission Name: Cozened Inference
