Cliche

September 26, 2011
The darkness in my soul entraps me in a tomb of solitude and plunges me into an abyss
Where the tatters of my heart lay broken
Until a solitary ray of light pierces through the veil
Behind the curtain of denial
The light shines with the vibrancy of a mirror,
And shows the duality of myself smiling
From the other side
While the self that is me writhes in agony
The mirror shatters and the shards are like needles
Caressing the me who is not I,
Or the she who is me cries and disappears
And with her she takes the light
And with the light, hope
Now I lay and bleed with utter chaos and mayhem
Raging through my soul
As I sink into the oblivion…
Or do I?
Is this how I really feel?
Or, is this merely a cliché of every deep and dark feeling that courses through emotional poetry like blood running through veins?
Impossibly combined with the soul scathing words that are at odds with each other and the world.
Is this how I feel, or is this just a shallow attempt to convince you that my heart is as black as my hair?





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