deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wasted Words
My candle
lights my breath
Dripping down and burning off
like the remnants of my self-respect
A tie of cloth
Some cheap bargain-bin ribbon
To adorn this gift
and wear dirt on my sleeve
where my heart used to live
Built up tasks
like a ziggurat
Footstool of the Gods
to rest their weary heels
when they tire of crushing
new hearts overflowing with vibrant thoughts
A blade with an edge
of dancing flowers
Petals like pillows
upon the altars of death and dreams so vivid
that they can scarcely tell us apart
I step down from this podium
to escape a sea of unphased faces
to find my own atop the rubbish heap
of things best... left ...
Forgotten.
lights my breath
Dripping down and burning off
like the remnants of my self-respect
A tie of cloth
Some cheap bargain-bin ribbon
To adorn this gift
and wear dirt on my sleeve
where my heart used to live
Built up tasks
like a ziggurat
Footstool of the Gods
to rest their weary heels
when they tire of crushing
new hearts overflowing with vibrant thoughts
A blade with an edge
of dancing flowers
Petals like pillows
upon the altars of death and dreams so vivid
that they can scarcely tell us apart
I step down from this podium
to escape a sea of unphased faces
to find my own atop the rubbish heap
of things best... left ...
Forgotten.
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