“This Poem Was Never Meant to Flow”

Death is the purest form for a soul to meet it's end
But some don't expire, they get ruthlessly silenced.
It wasn't just a grave, it had a backstory
A mortal with foresight couldn't roam the streets free.

Weapons unleashing as a force of nature,
Coming like a hurricane with sharp armour
It bled in vanity across the lanes left misunderstood,
Knowing it wasn't meant for this shrewd.

Tulips in the field, lotus in the pond
Here I swam in rivers creating the purest bond
Soft, tender winds that kissed the shadows,
Heels stood hard espousing the meadows.

A mentality with a storm inside waiting to unleash the candour,
But before the storm reached the clouds, it perished at the altar of betrayal.
The dress worn in the market was paper,
And here this corporeal wore layers of vapour.

Snakes hissing in the midnight grass,
Fake jewellery worn made of metal brass.
Words with meanings left the air,
Stories and memories unfold in care.

Boulders on the shoulders, the cracks open
Speech put to suppress, hidden drought unbroken.
Caged in boxes, unsheathed traces,
Known secrets belong to shattering my cases.

Body on stilts, hands caressing the bare face 
Scars left untouched building the soft embrace.
Tight shape wear exist in types
Ice ate the morphing lives.

The grenade was an autopsy of my lie,
When I took matters afar left was the awry sky.
Under the rebel of rocks and old fossil bones,
Metaphors unfolding rows of straight shooting missile drones.