A short poem about an internal struggle through life.
|Entrenched in a convoluted thought,
I digress and left to Lady Dismay,
For I have once again faltered.
A soaring dream once more, halted,
struggling through the barrage and fray.
Be true these ideas,
Speak to me no lies,
I am your birth and creator,
Why do your meanings bear truth
that I so desperately despise?
Captivated in personal illusion,
submerged in the oppression of grandeur.
Clawing to the banks of absolution,
slipping away from greener pasture.
Nothing but a fool with a silver tongue.
The mind of a wise impressionist.
Who is flickering potential lasts none too long.
Nothing more than a puppet,
Owned by a selfish ventriloquist.
What could possibly be real,
in this realm I forever wish to change?
Surrounded in hateful thoughts that none would steal,
Perhaps I am the one to blame…