It is an imaginary manipulator
It is a twisted ride
all impressive I suppose
until you see the golden light
Opaque given anxiety
Instantaneous variety
Forging darkness across the threshold
Vague almost invisible blindfold
Analyzing body morality
youthfully betrayed away
cursed all captive harmonies
conditioned by a woman, today old and grey
positivism shot ominously
crisis that crossed this soul
slipped black passion
burning around this coal
Shudder taste around people
formula given for spirit freedom
persuaded voices trot the key
signs of a bleeding demon
traces of humanity is sinking
from burglary, theft, and killings
dedication and hard work matter
these wretched chains ultimately shatter
—h.b. Woods
About the Creator
H.b. Woods
I am a mental health warrior; I battle it daily. I’m a mom to 5, a wife, a daughter, and a friend. Some of my poems are brutal as my ‘journey’ continues. Thank you for taking the time to read my poems.
Keep reading
More stories from H.b. Woods and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
By Leslie Staven5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.