The fruits of my destiny,
Never reached me.
The pain in these glossy eyes,
When will they see,
Is of the tried soul and not of physical deity.
The tears that roll down,
Are not water with salt
But that of a raging storm.
The dam once broken,
Never to be rebuilt sans cracks.
My soul's howling in pain,
Unshed globes start pouring.
A tornado of dancing emotions;
A silence that of before a tsunami.
An array of monsters lay before me
And I, a lone soldier,
An independent puppet;
Stand there with the shreds of my spirit,
With nothing but the ghouls
Of my burning black daggers;
Ready to fight my way through.
YOU ARE READING
Rosé Cacti
Poetry"See the war inside of her Of the heart and the soul Deadlier than that of the heart and mind. She laughs, She conceals; She cries, She writes; All that the heart wants, she gives And the soul is fed with fake promises. She flourished her wilting ro...
