Life is, and what is life?
I walk this path of darkest light
No freedom or room for flight
No exception, my world going gray
Life is, and what is life.
Autumns breath turn bitter cold to silent rest
Dust these souls, my chained impurity
The clouds roam free, gates that are left to clog
And heavens maiden, alone to rose herself away
I see a spider in your eyes
Silent, deadly-all so hopelessly pointless
In the grandest of grand-the scheme’s of things are weighted
I still roll the bloodied dice
But am unwilling to accept fate-which fate, has chained me.
We all walk amongst slaughtered lambs
God’s metaphor for purity and scrutiny
We-the hamsters of his will
Are still unopened for the dream
Do you want to know something scary my friends
Just think-what you see, hear, touch and taste.
The feeling you have for her or him
The pain and misery, the loathing, the greed
Could all be painstakingly false
We could be only a Childs, narrated, and triple X rated dream
So-Life is, and what is life.
poem by Troy Clark
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
