deepundergroundpoetry.com

THE MOSS UPON THE BARK I: ECHOES

Hatred clung to my youth
Malignant lips askew
Your care would never soothe
False smile you thought was true
Never could ease the pain
A rose would fail to heal
Gripped tight for hidden chain
My flesh this blade will feel
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Obsidian embrace
Human romance from ash
Pestilence left no trace
Sunlight like palish flash
Stolen shroud of the creek
A lure into the dark
Pinprick of quiet shriek
The moss upon the bark
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With the sore wind
Given torn grin
With the tired soul
Made the void whole
With the bleak gaze
Found with deep flays
With the calm sea
One mystery
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Like worms we stay
Feeding on the mindless fray
Stillborn in the frost
Without a flame we're lost
In agony our plague would thrive
Dying with our roots alive
Lest we break free from the ground
Echos of the dead resound
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With eye of ethereal fire
Majestic blaze of fevered pyre
Funeral for all to see
Engulfed the will of empathy
Cast aside by the elite
Swarming weakness neath their feet
Innocent soliloquies
Murder painted tapestries
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One fallacy upon the new
As all of those in sorrow flew
Grew old with undisguised losses
The saints were laid upon the crosses