Wany, yet holding_
Tides high, spirits shallow
Grovelling within, to stand its penalty_
The sense of dissipating
Inland only spells wishful thoughts
It ages, shredded _
Devoured by its nescience
As it traverses the very_
The very upbringing it hated
Or that which it claimed to.
Near the end, its starting point
Dragged by clustered souls
Impactful scars never close
On watch_ clutching shackles
Like flames in the dark
Haunting echoes, it gives
Modelling its own cage
Those undone, return stronger
Those it sheds, creep back
To be carried once more, this time lighter
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Author:
tayne (
Offline) - Published: March 27th, 2026 13:53
- Comment from author about the poem:
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
Somewhat cryptic this poem speaks of an entity unknown. Well done it leaves a mystery
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