There is a hell within us
that rushes through blood.
Our bones were birthed in a fire
that knows no relief from gentle downpours.
Nothing less than the torrential can quench
these ravishes of flame.
We've been ablaze for decades.
Still waiting for the storm to revive us,
for the fabled lightning strike to quicken
our heartbeats. Is this a curse, this
eternal sparking?
We've drowned ourselves in rivers
that Lethe would envy; to what avail?
The memories remain scorched
to our senses. Our bones still
threaten to rip through flesh.
Hell remains a constant fixture,
an empty pen, a blank page...
We face our demons daily.
Destined to be forever ablaze.














Comments
i must admit, however, that the theme here confuses me somewhat. the end is wonderful (i believe i get that), but the beginning is what i don't understand.
and as to your comment, i think we all would (or at least i do) like to write something more than a few lines on a scree. i wish i could write something that would change the entire world (or at least get it shaking on its axis)...
--
"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for."
---Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
--
One piece of his heart for every tear she granted..
I love this. The words work so well.
--
Hit me back! I like comments too
[link]
the second, single verse stanza is very convincing and strong in its bold statement..
--
"All the world's a stage,
and all the men and women merely players:
they have their exits and their entrances;
and one man in his time plays many parts..."
(William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 2/7)
I tend to be fond of your short works, with that powerful touch of lore so intense and sometimes horrificly beautiful to read from you.
--
"Hell belongs in a book
Where the setting is doused with flowers
Upon a field, accompanied by butterflies,
As some random man screams,
Todays weather is 50 degrees
With a 101% chance of cloudy skies,
Just to irk the Hell out of it!" -SIRyan-
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