Mystique Me [Poetry]

Downward Bicycle

Trickling down my spine the story dies

The old fashioned talk of ancestors may never die,

For rage often scorned by sorrows way

Downward bicycles show me the way.

Your iris has wrinkled in by the cries

Pupils deflower from the children cries,

These are not times for sight to stray

My oh my I wish more than anything that you would stay.

Please stay, take my hand out of the rain.

The hills are steep, too steep for me

My daddy never thought me to ride, not me,

Nor you, you were never taught how to ride

Thats why you cry for the ride.

These graves are a reminder of free

No one told you the price of free,

Someone told me about the tide

Of course, I forgot about the tide.

Yet I chose to swim with the flies.

Downward I go, not quite ready for the fall

But your here with me, and you didn't choose the fall,

I did

I chose it for you.

This is the downward bicycle my deer

And you weren't ready for me.

***

What's your perspective?