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The wasteland in my mind
holds its own sort of dark beauty;
a broken world
the empty pieces
fractured and alone
all man's work reduced
to a puddle of molten slag.
The barren depths of my soul
devoid of your cleansing light
because I won't let it in
(if you would ever even offer)
afraid of what I might see in those
what I might have let myself become
An abhorrent monster, wearing the face of
a lost poet
| I found this somewhat chilling, perhaps because in reading it I see the own monsters within myself. |
The poem is provocative and ironic, on one hand, refusing to let in the light because being afraid of what it reveals, and on the other hand, already knowing what it is you have become.
To whom then is the poem addressed? Who is the 'you' ? A lover? The world? the speaker's own conscience? The resentment implied in 'if you would ever even offer' reinforces the solitude and aloneness conjured by the fractured images in the first stanza.
My only suggestions would be some few words do seem a bit cliché, i e "barren depths of my soul" "abysmal depths" I feel could be more finely crafted as it detracts from the overall tone and feel.
|| Posted on 2013-05-03 00:00:00 | by ziska | [ Reply to This ] |