rambles
it does not happen alone.
All bad things seem to happen at the same time,
as if fate were mocking on you,
testing your strength to bear it all.
Hope has been lost a long time before,
the chase of a new dawn marring the innocence of a pure existence.
Happy were those folks of old,
who used to spend their time chasing preys and communicating with nature.
Unlucky are those who spend their time behind dummies,
showing them the world, yet only a glimmer of it.
When all hope is lost at once,
there comes the shock of denial,
of blinding refusal of all that hurts.
Yet, it is the truth from which one cannot escape.
One is left tittering on the verge of something one cannot even begin to understand,
forced to make an absolute decision,
unable to go back to change that course of action,
yet unable to forsee the damage it would entail.
The mind is used to such stress by now,
the realisation only hitting barely,
the shock blocking it all.
Only the heart suffers, now and always,
being the lone victim of the wounds inflicted by fate,
crippled yet grieving incessantly.
Poetry by myst_ery
Read 519 times
Written on 2013-04-29 at 09:04
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Reflections
When something bad happens,it does not happen alone.
All bad things seem to happen at the same time,
as if fate were mocking on you,
testing your strength to bear it all.
Hope has been lost a long time before,
the chase of a new dawn marring the innocence of a pure existence.
Happy were those folks of old,
who used to spend their time chasing preys and communicating with nature.
Unlucky are those who spend their time behind dummies,
showing them the world, yet only a glimmer of it.
When all hope is lost at once,
there comes the shock of denial,
of blinding refusal of all that hurts.
Yet, it is the truth from which one cannot escape.
One is left tittering on the verge of something one cannot even begin to understand,
forced to make an absolute decision,
unable to go back to change that course of action,
yet unable to forsee the damage it would entail.
The mind is used to such stress by now,
the realisation only hitting barely,
the shock blocking it all.
Only the heart suffers, now and always,
being the lone victim of the wounds inflicted by fate,
crippled yet grieving incessantly.
Poetry by myst_ery
Read 519 times
Written on 2013-04-29 at 09:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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