Monday, February 11, 2013

When truth pricks like shards...

Shadows I guard in graves of dark,
broken things I hide in places I wont find,
peep like disaster seeking scraps of debris;
like sun seeking cracks of light.

Flowers that wilt but wont fall,
like the dry paper skin on my heart.
Quickly becoming a shroud on my soul,
turning thoughts into a lifeless gore.

Strikes on paper like barbed wires at the border,
sucking away the current of my words,
stare at me with mocking wonder-
What I was and what I have become.

An excited heart I cant control,
Spinning yarns of delightful nothings.
Imagination- That kite would soar,
Other's rain becomes my cloudless sky.

A lonely hand scribbling away,
doesn't stop except to wipe the tears.
People who have everything give away nothing
A bitter truth I realize today

4 comments:

  1. "Shadows I guard in graves of dark,
    broken things I hide in places I wont find,
    peep like disaster seeking scraps of debris;
    like sun seeking cracks of light." - the first stanza sets it up ... lovely !!!

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    1. Thanks a lot Green Speck. Glad I could convey the setting well and proper!

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  2. very nice poem,
    end at a very happening note(as i think) "A lonely hand scribbling away,doesn't stop except to wipe the tears."....

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much! And that is one of my own favourite lines from this poem :P

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