Irony/ My Beauty

Irony
 
So close to death  
only to find amour once.
 
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved
 
My Beauty  
 
Take it from  
me please  
my putrid  
withered thrum,  
 
I no longer want to  
feel my reel of real.
 
Sweet friend of  
elysian misery  
cryptic key  
my eulogy  
of broken audacious  
epiphanies,
 
crazy to believe  
they can see any  
light I retain,
 
exterior ugly  
outshines auric pith,
 
symmetry is truly in the  
eye of the beholder,
 
I must resonate  
a swarthy aura,  
 
confidence I have  
knowing what they see,  
 
a clown brandishing  
scribbled eccentricities,  
 
only thing I'm good for,
 
tread on me I implore.  
 
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved