Sunday, 16 July 2017

A Thorn's Ode

A Thorn's Ode

Dear Rose,
Remember thorns
From the very beginning?

Not a no,
But to lose a friend,
Pricks a thorn.
Wrenches a secluded heart,
Drenched in blood, as red you are.

Truth, trust, reality.
You facade them,
A thorn that had only
Those red ones to talk to,
Is ditched for being true?
"Dear Rose, don't teach me
To lie! To be untrue! Oh dear Rose,
My honesty is a dagger
And my affection, true.
Don't accept the latter, but...
Friends, good ones, at least we could be?"

For all, a lonely thorn
Was left again, dead of companions
That hardly considered him
To grow into a twig,
Yet he did, and flourished entirely.
But, unable to fruition the ruby shine.
As that Rose, wrenched his heart
As a friend and not as a desire!

Saturday, 6 May 2017

It's been a while...

It's been a while since I've written...
Things have altered, and life too. Maturity and clumsiness are growing over me, rendering helplessness, diminishing enthusiasm, and a dying passion. Well, not every picture says a thousand words, this one clearly not! The one that I just painted onto your gray matter.

Or maybe it does, but holds on to the rest – an infinite number of expressions that are worthy of painting a paper blue, yet don't suffice to define what I feel. The picture might have a countenance, a mask of a thousand words presumably, however, what is abdominal remains unblemished alike flesh.

To be broken...
To be broken... Uh.
To be broken... Cry...
Could it be any more obvious? It's abstruse, as I mentioned earlier. Meagre is a dictionary, best put!
Life is miserable and hopeless, and chewy to manage.
Short and sweet I kept it for you, although it's sour up my throat.