Your figurative speeches projects like a stallion’s mane being braided



Upon lightning rods



Like the friction thousands of fingernails etching upon the sizzling blackboard,



Trailing along the constellations as though there were any optimism presented.



Like teenage fans barging into a concert venue,



Star strucked in a shower of cats and dogs,



Like a Masquerade Ball held in celebration of the Boston Tea Party,



Impacts upon Michelangelo’s “The Last Supper”.



Like the glimmering moon dissolved upon the meteorites



Like glass shattering on the cobbles in reflective crystals,



Echoed with a wolves’ howl of cry.



Like Napoleon Bonaparte’s sold out venue in Madison Square Garden,



Like drowning in Tobacco Ketchup and Black Beard Mustard,



Slowly suffocating in bitterness tinged with frostbites.



Like Mozart trampled upon trumpets in the alley of Venice,



Rained upon by the heartless spirit of Theseus,



Like a turbulence beneath Mediterranean Sea,



The fallen of an angel’s feather.











Yet,



Your speeches projects like the reflective shadow casted upon Hydrangeas,



Scented with Marc Jacob’s “Daisy” Perfume,



Like a ghastly figure of dust and diamonds.



Overwhelmed by the whispers of Romeo and Juliet,



Like a timid clown entering a haunted house,



Masked with the evil within.



Like falling head over heels in Tennessee,



Trampling along in a pair of prestigious cowboy boots,



Like heels dangling 240000 meters above sea level,



Taking a glance upon the truth that protrudes beneath granite,



Like flabbergasted with one’s thoughts upon courage across challenges,



Like reading New York Times in Manhattan’s underground during rush hour.



Wherefore lies my soul and the hidden truth



Like the echoes I heard in a Midsummer Night’s Dream,



As if Shakespearean Era merged the 20th century into pitch black,



Like a speech projected as I clenched my fingers grasping a handful of golden,



The sand casted a tint of spark upon my palm as in realization



Those harm me not through words but through imagination.