Friday, July 8, 2011

Pincushion Prophet

This corner, watching days pass
Overlooked 
The sky’s grown up too fast.
Tried, fell for the assailant
My own good, tracing a hide
Where do you find happily ever after?
Defected, I wanted out
No compassion from your maker in sight
I’ve heard beauty’s found on the inside,
I wasted nights searching veins 
To no avail.
I’ve witnessed death, held hands with hurt
Not a soul would talk
My mistakes take forms of faces
Haunting dreams
Muttering for sympathy, anything
They just stare, muted. 
Intuition’s been marred by 
Irreparable harm.
My present is 
Chased by my past with
Pitchforks and
Torches. 
So tell me, hopeless romantic,
Poet,
How does one cope with
The absence of happiness
And the decay of what once was?

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