Poisoned is the blackened tip of my soul
Present a gaping hole, alone, alone
So turbulent these waves of thought – the toll!
Violent waves crush, and in them, I’m thrown.
Is it a man’s fate, to crush under his weight?
To weep – terrified of his tomorrow?
To chase happiness with ignorance great?
Seeking pleasure with pain in the marrow?
On my hand lies my trodden broken heart,
Still alive, still thrashing, still with its cracks.
Each time I dig a grave, it will be art
My will be summoned, deep from the barracks.
‘Hell absolute’ if we could name this land
Heart adamant, soul undying –still we stand!
Read more poetry below:
Support the arts. 👇❤️