Sunday, 17 April 2011
Left in a passage of dark deep despair,
no light to illumine the agony there,
crouched in a corner of some foul design,
you ache with some remnant of longing resigned.
These wounds that have bled out your heart, that once loved,
are wickedly opened and deepened, when shoved,
into a box, where your dreams used to be,
residing in emptiness, loves absentee.
Lost in that dark and damp manacled place,
where you sat in your blood that wept down your face,
there was but a fragment, a shred of dim light,
that flickered inside, in the dark of that night.
So you rise, as the light inside See's up ahead,
a crack in the gloom, with a thin wisping thread,
to sow up these wounds, and to make of them scars,
to unlock these self designed prisoners bars.
And all of the time, with a wicked sly grin,
the beast that has hold of your hope from within,
tempts you by stoking that last fading coal,
in the hope it will finally devour your soul.
For it knows, what you don't, in the depths of that place,
that you'll give all you've got to escape from that space,
even in the light of that last dim lit flicker,
it knows it just makes that slope all the bit slicker.
For a glimmer of hope is enough now to kill you,
as the teeth tautly widen around the dark lures woo,
and begin to drip venom in anticipation,
as blindly you wander into that damnation.
The snap of the trap, that now rips through your soul,
as the tocsin erupts from the demonic toll,
is the only dark remnant left in that night,
of a heart finally swallowed by that false hopes fake light.
© Richard Michael Parker 2011
Posted by RMP at 22:41