overwrought. overthought.
the bitter made sweeter
with every empty word you utter.

i wish i could return
to the crossroads
and cross that road again,
marking the steps i had taken
with stones to leave unturned.

helpless. hapless.
my fear made clear
with every empty paper you tear.

to pieces, to pieces —
these words like broken pieces of glass.
they glitter — such deceptive beauty
but oh! how they cut
the barefoot goddess as she treads
lightly, slowly
sinking in.

the void…
it was clarity spoiled
by conscience misguided and
vindication misdirected.

it makes no sense to tread that path again.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your 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