deepundergroundpoetry.com
fulcrum cries under wounded skies
Must be something comforting in the misery,
I've gotten so used to feeling glum,
that any other emotion is cumbersome,
such a pity since I know that of this I am the fulcrum.
I have the ability like all others to control my destiny,
but that pertains to my soul alone,what of the rest of me,
this disfigured body, twisted in ways no man should have to endure,
the chilling indignities of a decrepit form beyond the norm,
the morn I mourn,born of simple cruelty,
alas! surviving life's brutality storm.
sadly it happened that I fell through the window from
above the brooding chasm teeming with insanity,
catching my lungs on fire as I breathed the acrid air,
never more should I have been aware,
and to this day I remain there.
morbid are God's eyes it seems when we're
paranoid and scared
I swear I love such an impossible scenario,
still though I await its dismal counterflow,
violent inner wars coming up from below.
from knowing that of former self,I am but an echo
why can I not climb free of this funk,
time unending wraps my spirit in a web of despair.
somehow I feel infected by the saturating
stagnant pools that surround me with every
aspect of my short comings:
sadistic flavor,
macabre tonguing mind piercing saber
a taste I'm forced to savor.
I hold my head in my hands alone in the dark
depression's aim being true, again hitting it's mark,
I cannot find my way through this maze,
purgatories smoke filled hallways,
I'm lost in confusion, feeling quite abandoned
by the source of my obsession,
I am a slave in servitude to the desires of my heart,
false start lacking any conclusions to the lessons.
I've gotten so used to feeling glum,
that any other emotion is cumbersome,
such a pity since I know that of this I am the fulcrum.
I have the ability like all others to control my destiny,
but that pertains to my soul alone,what of the rest of me,
this disfigured body, twisted in ways no man should have to endure,
the chilling indignities of a decrepit form beyond the norm,
the morn I mourn,born of simple cruelty,
alas! surviving life's brutality storm.
sadly it happened that I fell through the window from
above the brooding chasm teeming with insanity,
catching my lungs on fire as I breathed the acrid air,
never more should I have been aware,
and to this day I remain there.
morbid are God's eyes it seems when we're
paranoid and scared
I swear I love such an impossible scenario,
still though I await its dismal counterflow,
violent inner wars coming up from below.
from knowing that of former self,I am but an echo
why can I not climb free of this funk,
time unending wraps my spirit in a web of despair.
somehow I feel infected by the saturating
stagnant pools that surround me with every
aspect of my short comings:
sadistic flavor,
macabre tonguing mind piercing saber
a taste I'm forced to savor.
I hold my head in my hands alone in the dark
depression's aim being true, again hitting it's mark,
I cannot find my way through this maze,
purgatories smoke filled hallways,
I'm lost in confusion, feeling quite abandoned
by the source of my obsession,
I am a slave in servitude to the desires of my heart,
false start lacking any conclusions to the lessons.
Published 2nd Dec 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 0
comments 3
reads 651
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
28th Jan 2014 3:01pm
I realy like this poem i understand that feeling of being traped and chaned to a place you feel you can never get away from . what an amazing poem never stop wrighting ok :)
28th Jan 2014 9:00pm
26th May 2014 7:53am
