She turned her head to come to terms with fate
Oracles of destiny harshly told
A fortune so cruel, abrasively cold
Spoken with palpable knives of true hate
The prophecy intended to sedate
Foresight born of stolen eyeballs they sold
Foreign, satanic exchanges are bold
Speculative forms of lives they berate
And yet, whether this voiced truth comes to be
Inevitably lies with my grayed hands
For my life is my own, eyes unstolen
Gainsay the fruition of said decree
Negating borrowed time from weathered sands
Revealing their baleful orbs to be swollen
YOU ARE READING
Poems of an anchor
PoetryI'm a poet, and yes, I know it I am very fond of poetry and writing. I'm the kind of person who never verbalizes my feelings. I prefer to write them down, transforming them into literary works of art. Words bear comfort and catharsis for my heart an...
