The Night burns bright.
Lost tears of anguish and rage
spew from the cracks of heaven
and caress my cheek.
Accusatory lights puncture my psyche
and unravel my soul,
tearing me back to reality and
searing my infections with acidic burns.
Fucking cunts, eating their way
through the natural paradise.
Grey walls and faceless men
eat the bones of the unworthy.
Can I see through the darkness?
Can I pierce through the screams of the innocent and
carry myself above and out of the din?
And if I can, why would I return?
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Author:
Luke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 7th, 2017 00:21
- Comment from author about the poem: The title "Teardrop Streams" relates not only to the analogy of rain being teardrops as they fall on a face and what that represents, but also to the "Stream of consciousness" style in which I wrote the poem, as it is composed of the brief but potent thoughts I experienced in the two minute walk I undertook returning to my room one winter evening, looking out at the world and reflecting upon its apparent bleakness as rain fell onto my face and eyes. Enjoy :) P.s Please excuse the language; I don't want my poems to have an age limit as I want people of all ages to feel comfortable reading them but I apologize if it upsets anyone.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments2
A great write and somewhat enigmatic - I've never used the language you do and doubt if I ever will but have no problems with it so no worries there.
Great write
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