Ce Monde Illusorie

This.
The setting sun, eclipsed
By the rays of the Moon,
Elopes with the day,
Leaving only night.

This.
This repressed being,
This chained behemoth,
Teeming beneath my skin,
It wishes only to be heard.
But it cannot be heard.

Unless…

Unless the se…

No.
These words are unworkable.
And besides, I live here.
I live within pain, within dread.

This.
This night.
It is the selfsame night in which
All my life is lived.

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , ,

Feel free to comment

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

Destination Humanity

Chasing big dreams one photo at a time

LITERARY TITAN

Connecting Authors and Readers

Being Aware

A inward journey in this outside world.

sophie harris

watch me find my feet | new posts m • w • s

%d bloggers like this: