With irk, thy hands
trembled
Pushing away the
monotone
Of lies... Of lies..
Of lies
Unsettled, thy
intent to cause grief
Along the way, like
the stillness
Of a windless
night..
Thy curse, rebounded
Back at thy face,
poker, sad
Luminous as the calm
lake
Terrorized with
oblivion
Of being forsaken,
ignored and battered
Swimming, into a
whirling "i can't believe" thoughts
Nowhere to go...
But whimper in
sorrow
Crunching, barely bearing insanity
And yet, redeemed
Again by a mere
realization
Of the power of
intimacy
PS:
in here, i'm applying the rule of a persona poem - it's a dramatic monologue spoken in the voice of a character created by the author. the above poem was made by putting myself's feelings to another entity. It's best not to elaborate further to veil the mystery behind it.
MAC
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