Dust choked mirror reflects dark sunken
orbs beneath crescent moon halves
mutated skin wrists hang from frail
fractured limbs of tormented sinew
I've been here before & I know the routine
I've seen this before & I know what it means
Luna disc penetrates silver shards
across splintered boards of decline
concentric circles of aching frown sends
ripped muscles into relentless spasm
I've been here before & I know the routine
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Right back down on my hands & knees
Three hundred & sixty degrees
I've seen this before & I know what it means
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Right back down on bloodied knees
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Skeletal digits stab jagged points into
broken face lingering in hopeless gawp
déjà vu taunts & amplifies grief
filled pearls of salt stinging open wounds
I've seen this before & I know what it means
I've been here before & I know the routine
Stiffened facial expression of faith lost man
known as beast where little else compares
dwelling within on the fringe of the brittle &
crumbling wall of inner haunting & remorse
Arc of hatred paints impure line across
hoarse & exposed chords of sound
gurgled grin of remembrance falls silent
as tobacco stained breath expels existence
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Comments2
Enjoying the style and the content! 🙏🏻🕊
Thanks arqios, I appreciate you taking time to read & comment.
regards
Ma5on
You’re welcome Ma5on🙏🏻🕊sure appreciative of the same 👍🏻
Intriguing portrayal of a weathered and worn state. There's trauma in the words, but there's acceptance too. Many will relate. Well penned.
Eugene,
kind of you to take time out to evaluate, appreciated,
regards
Ma5on
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