The gargoyle of Suffering, having gorged on my defeat,
rages when I am found silenced.
Feelings drowned, thoughts incomplete,
intentions unknown though still intense,
now what shall the gargoyle eat?
When the sun deprived the hours last,
fistclaw fates had taken hold.
Hatred was the only a weak shadow cast,
having grown tired of getting old.
Frozen, becalmed, dispassionate,
emotions wilted at my feet;
with grief lined passageways collapsing,
where shall the monster eat?
This vacant shell of reasoning
on the borderline of being alive;
teeth of night have picked me clean,
how shall the fiend survive?
So now let time emboss the sage in me,
confusion be dissolved,
pale away this wires-crossed image of me
around which such sorrow revolves.
Cast iron mind once defined as intellectual,
insight arriving too late.
But now long suffering is over, not yours anymore;
you can leave the monster to his fate.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: September 3rd, 2024 00:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments3
This poem seems quite Gothic. The metaphor is a good one and I enjoyed the read. Nicely done.
Superb work.
A scary good and
captivating write!! 😨
Great use of metaphor
and a treat to recite!! 👍
Best regards ✌️ Thad
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