The force that drives me
The force that drives me
Drives the wind through the water
That smashes my internal tree
Cannot but be my reaper.
For which this rub, is a conduit
Speaking a league of intonations
Choosing my sonnet as a monument
For which I speak so I might have vindication.
The light that caresses my thigh
Spiders down into the tomb
Rising out like a weather-beaten sigh
And bumbling forth back towards the womb.
To begin anew; like the bishop
Haunting the steps of greater men
Never a thought of his kinship
But of only vows taken to an amen.
Hunched over in garbs like a beggar
To transpire through the mire
But appeasing to a different vendor
Before the time in which he will expire.
I was not meant for things such as this
My genesis was a dire-speeded havoc
And I commend my family as thus
And I resort to a life of being erratic.
Drowned in waters of wintry fever
I debuted into a life of morbid comedy
Following the first act of a lost seeker
To which, I fell into a parody.
Sifting through melodies of mine own
To which I broke upon principle
To dreams that I have always known
Unable to even utter one syllable.
And I am heart-sequined in all
Coddled with the sheets around my chest
Not willing to shake myself or crawl
To the meadow beyond what was suppressed.
And I search for a new light
To whisper songs of joy to my ear
And there could be things to delight
The present keeps me near.
I wish upon a star, she is a star
To my world and forever
But I was given a scar
And yet I must endeavor. Fin.
