River of Shadows

by ongoeslife

Published February 29, 2012

In Dramatic Poetry

Through a haze I see, darkly
Your smile, welcoming,
Your arms, open

Your every word, deceitful;
Every laughter, false;
Every embrace, a clutch of death

Phrases flit from your tongue, meaningless
Your cheery tones mock my heart, broken,
Shattered into fragments; worthless

Shadows in the day,
blinding, binding, tormenting me
Every echo is a memory

A memory of things, gone
The hopes of the past, nothing
An empty vapor where once was something solid

The pain inside, burning
as you cast me away, carelessly
Anger and rage, building

Is this life feckless, futile, trifling?
Is it worth it to keep breathing
All the painful, bitter fragrances of despair?

Hate consuming, devouring
The very core of my being
There is no one, no one, no one

What is there to strive for?
To live for in this decayed thing called life?
There is nothing, nothing, nothing

Through the silence, a wail,
Ripping from a throat thought to be mute
The voice keeps crying, crying, crying

A shrieking dirge, piercing
Piercing the stone-cold hearts
of those who cast nary a thought

Comments & reviews · 0


I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
— Spearmint