Description: Please, please, please, just tell me if you hate this. I know that it's really long, and it's all one big stanza, but I wasn't sure how to break it up. Any advice is would be really, really, REALLY appreciated! TY!
The Bigger Picture -------------------------------------------
The sky drips gold,
And I wonder for a second who is beneath the knife.
I wonder for one last time who is condemned to death.
And it was I who did it all.
Called my name and promised he'd come.
But I reluctantly walked away, hand in my own.
A single word taken by his lips,
And I couldn't possibly understand.
Held a dandelion in my emptied hands and filled them.
Filled with bloodied tears and cordial promises.
I said I wouldn't even glance,
But the water ran red and the bee stung.
I could've sworn I saw him through the doors.
His voice pouring from the cracks beneath,
And I trusted one more time.
With every living quantity of me I held a burning candle.
All my own, they wouldn't tell me who.
Who lies between the dented fender and the caved in wall?
Flanked by the all known in-betweens, who lay lifeless and limp?
I cried for the sake of crying until my eyes turned green with greed.
A voice far beyond audible range can tell the difference between you and me.
My mother and I.
My sister and I.
My brother and I.
A child hold not evident to you.
Never could our eyes meet and gold agreement upon a desolate little something.
Heard before the ears of the world he made yet one more promise.
One he could not uphold.
And the world laughed in disregard.
In apathy, they grinned.
And in accord they thought they'd win.
They knew more than they were worth.
And their eyes kept mum the mystery of their unkempt reactions.
They could never handle the series of ancient actions only days old.
Through my very own eyes I have seen far more to believe the recluse.
I would fall upon my knees and beg.
One last time.
One last time beg for a chance that has yet to visit me.
A picture of a moment long forgotten.
It seems insignificant now that I can see the bigger picture.
The oil painting.
The early works of Picasso himself.
A scribbled sentence will mean more when written on a clean sheet of paper.
He will edict,
And they will not doubt his decree.
Specific and lonesome they will hear the trees speak in fraught declarations.
They will know forever-more that I am here.
To speak for the soft-spoken and defeat the laws of man.
The laws we so effortlessly denounce.
Hoping in very little quantities that someday, someone will find us.
And upon command,
We watch our very own blood spill.
Watch our very own wits stain the walls in beautiful red-stained patterns.
I never meant it the way you heard.
Nonetheless, the sky drips gold above me.
To misrepresent my cursed name as a valued commodity.
Their eyes could never be fooled.
Never could their eyes be fooled...
For they see through my own.
I had to read this out loud, it was so wonderfully meticulously worded. I agree, very deep... I can tell that lots of thought went into this, whether conscious or subconscious. It's realllly long though; stanzas might be effective, but all the same I thought that the variation of the line lengths helped that out, made it easier to read than if they had all been the same. I rather like this one, good work.