What's In My Eyes
A blank page is where I spill my rage, no longer locked in a cage
My mind is my power, my pen is my sword
I am of the people;
I am not a sheeple.
In accordance to your subordinate actions
My skull is fractured and detached from the cord
Spinal bifida is in trivial pursuit, monstrosity is it’s name
If given shameful dreams they lay on the inseams of my pillow
Derived from childhood thoughts brought about by madness
Infinite sadness is in the bone marrow that a sparrow would not carry home
Or call it’s own fruitless endeavor.
I bide my time on a vine of ecstasy
A lost angel in a tangled web of lies;
Like doomed flies.
How will I beseech you if I cannot reach you?
Your inner depths on lock and key
Sentimental roses only imposes on feelings that once were;
They aren’t hers anymore.
(2012)
