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I see it being built, in the eyes in a mirrorreflecting the house inside made by bricks,woods, and stones replaced bythe fires of guilt. Caught in the echoof the phrase remained unsaid,keeping me trapped inside the burninghouse that was never a home.
Now the ashes are fallingand the the fire lines began to recedeas the rain starts to pour, washing awaythe mess and turning it to a solid slateof rock that I threw on the lake, disturbingthe calm waters, forming ripples that graduallyelevated itself from the shore, rising in itself a waveof revenge upon the instigator.
Entangledby wires of the thoughts like threads of silkspindled and shaped that of a spider’s webleaving me suspended on the ground of theforsaken, forgotten and free. My skintouches the angry waters like a breezeof the wind. Weightless and unmovingand I realized it is the water that I am breathing.
Let out the light of obscurity against my skin,constantly covering me as a comfort, a cushion,a solace of embracing silence.
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This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.
This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.
Read it and find out.