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Trickery
My eyes are hollow. I am devoid of all life.
We have deployed our Master, with the speed of a dull knife.
A figure shifts in candlelight, as I thought
Of a brave new cure, I was so sure, that I spit and I dragged and I fought.
So close to something like a thought. And yet,
Needles of fortitude never forget
Something as simple as what I began to pove,
And I sputtered my love for I will and I do.
I am befuddled amidst a deafening wood.
And yes, I thought I could turn waste into jewels, so misunderstood -
And the rabbits are shredding away at my thin,
Destructive skin, I fight from within, to save a heart of heavy tin.
Overtaken by a rush.
Havoc. He is guilty of being forgotten.
Knowing - mountains begin to crush,
And the luscious fancy turns rotten.
Shout to the Meddler,
I meditate to smooth uproar.
And when our troubles push the Peddler,
The diamonds will become a bore,
And I'll save us like never before.
(What fourberie shall they have in store?)
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This article has 2 comments.
this is really interesting. i like it! dont get me wrong, but i have hard time figuring out the..meaning? of this poem...i can see theres something about maybe cutting? i dnt want to get the meaning of the poem wrong..
but i guess thats the beauty of poetry!
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