Category: Writers Block
Be it fleeting or be it blind.
Hope is what drives the ever thinking mind.
In our beds we twist and turn.
For our secret loves, hope returns.
Deep inside, buried so deep.
Lie fledgling wonders, still asleep.
It is what keeps us looking, for her
Over our shoulder we’re not so sure.
Though the truth we know.
Our riven scars we will not show.
We bare our fangs, sharp and fierce, to the world.
Our loves flower, in our fist, it lays curled.
Inside like a rot it rends our heart.
For we fear to move, to part,
It dies, and decays
eating away
Hope, be it fleeting, be it blind.
It makes us suffer, to hope we bind.
For hope we look, for her, the one who hates.
Our appetite, obsession, nothing will sate.
As of late my mind runneth over
With memories so rare, like the clover.
Silly hatred for loving impetuous zealots, sipping ivory poems out of riven from inside nothings.
I hate thee,
I hate we,
I hate me,
Hope is Fleeting, hOpe is blind, hope dRives us to the dark Gates
Inside us all it liVEs Never Entering the light of justice, but eternal in the Shadow of Shame.
Hope...
good, but not smooth, but is good.
I kinda wanted to leave it chopped like that. An experiment to say the least and although it took me out of the usual that I'm comfortable with but I liked the finished product.
Yeah, I've written things that a6e definitely choppy and change rhythm. Sometimes it's not my choice, sometimes my writing mood is just lame that day.
Very interesting. I like it! Keep up the awesome writing!