Tragedy loves poetry

Hello friends.

Misery loves company. Tragedy loves poetry.

Tragedies, more often than not, plant seeds into the soft bed of our hearts and sprouts thorn-stemmed flowery words into our toxic minds. The more we write, the more poisoned our heads become and the more hurt we feel but the more pain is released.

Or poetry love tragedies? Do the dark and hidden depths of our minds crave for a tragic story to tell, therefore the fragile heart allows itself to fall victim easily to impending pain that reaches out its outstretched fingers and chokes us to the extent that we have to set free the words in our minds so that our hearts can breathe?

Tragic anger

Memory, it seems to escape me

Probably, I never knew you at all

Or maybe, you were just a figment

of my imagination

So it seems

Were you really around, or what could be the sound

that was buzzing in my ears?

‘Twas like a fly in head, devoured my mind

and left its waste inside

 

Or was it you really?

Lately, I begin to think about

What could be, life after a drought

‘Cos sadly,

I was left out to bleed, drained of my blood

and hung outside to dry

The sky has given up,

shrivelled like my eyes

 

Or was it you really?

 

Tragic woe

This heart has seen

so many things that the eyes won’t believe

So many nights, still not as dark

as what the conscience feels

So break away, I’ll break away

It’s time to be on our own

This soul has left the weakness open

to the prying hands

So much temptation

but it only takes the will to stand

and walk away

Walk away

and leave the life of pretence

 

So that’s all, gang. Welcome me back, friends; with a smile. 8)

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~ by sheezapanda on October 7, 2009.