disturbed

Standard

My wound
is not
framed in
light but
holed in
darkness.
What bleeds
from mortal
bodies is
but sympathy
for what
truly ails
the soul,
whose
mournful sob
and tears
is fated
to remain
forever
silent to
the world;
pouring instead
to fill
nightmarish dreams
hollowed
by the constant
hammering
of regrets,
that refuse to
rest.
That won’t
willingly
embrace
the cool
comforting breeze
of a warm
summer’s day.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “disturbed

  1. So beautiful. Several phrases jumped out at me: “My wound is not framed in light but holed in
    darkness.” and “…the constant hammering of regrets, that refuse to rest.” This poem really spoke to me. Thank you for sharing.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s