Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1169075-The-Poetry-Weeper
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Emotional · #1169075
Failing vision and how the mind plays tricks, causing uncertainty.

Distorted, bubbled vision,
particled, obliterated light;
eyes that die in night
feel nothing from the division.

Two stones embedded deep,
cradled in my head asleep,
lie to the solemn keeper,
the poetry weeper,
swimming on dusky, dry land.

Lend me a hand, I'm lost.
Open my eyes before the frost.
Willingly shut, glued dead;
no memories inside this head.

Distraught, confused dreams
crack, diffused by light,
come alive during the night;
rip sanctity at the seams.

Pale orbs throbbing deep,
cramp hard inside my head,
deny the mind that blinds;
choose not the walking aid
to travel alone again tonight.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1169075-The-Poetry-Weeper