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The Voice

Contributed by net on Sunday, 10th May 2009 @ 03:48:48 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

A desk, a chair and walls surround
A kindle of hope struggling to survive
The guilt he builds through his rants
Fuels him to sink further low
And the voice so familiar drones on and on
The haze of his fury spreads through the floor
There seems to be no end where the booze comes from
And the fire keeps clicking on and of, on and of
Sits through words, jumping rocks on a mountain’s edge
Emotions turning into thorns
Hurting constantly in search of proof

Witnessing himself is his ritual
And a cruel game he plays with his role
Pushing buttons with labels crossed
Trapped in his dance of never ending turns
A mockery of a dream he resurrected
The illusion covering the untold
Layers of skin with nothing to support
Lets others see him through

Loses and plays with cruel metaphors
Runs and creeps back in from the back door
Loves and kills it to keep on weeping more
Moves until the space engulfs him whole
The world expends to leave him alone
And the voice keeps droning on
Until there is no more

Copyright Â© net ... [ 2009-05-10 15:48:48]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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