lock

Pandora's Box

.............

 

exhaustion surrounds 

 

permeating her auric feild

 

like a blanket of thick smoke

 

retiring into the darkness of night

 

it is her solace and place of quietude

 

undaunted by earthly storms 

 

the raging fires of voicy havoc

 

 raucous misunderstandings

 

petty misgivings that cloud the path to clarity

 

slowly and calmly anesthetized 

 

by the rise and fall of her chest

 

the inspiration of her breath

 

 far into the depths of unconscious planes

 

dreaming of spatial incongruencies

 

distorted views of the day's events

 

 slip into a place where they make more sense

 

awakened by a sound

 

 a child weeping

 

baby soft skin broken by the remnants 

 

of an ogre's  shame and anguish 

 

after dropping bombs on innocent women and children

 

abandoned by an angel of forgiveness

 

left in the scourge of suffering

 

accompanied by his own flesh and blood babies 

 

 one man's desperation 

 

the cold war has been resurrected

 

a house of horrors comes alive

 

it is up to each one to survive

 

 raw emotion pierces a hole

 

gnawing like lightning through the night

 

 into the core of her soul

 

awakening with cries

 

but after 35 years

 

she is finally alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10:07 PM 7/3/2013

©

 

..............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

What war does. it lasts long after it's over.my father beat me 2 months after my mother's sudden death, and I blocked it out for 35 years of my life.

Hide - February 21, 2013

Conflict's repitition leads to progression severed;

a life in which the enemy you're no better.

Outrages, rampages, fights beyond any cause

lead to a world in which you're no better off.

 

The only resolution to a problem so unreal

is to find a place where you no longer feel.

The pain of others on your life already cold,

forces you to hide to cover up what you're told.

 

I need to escape from all these lies;

these indescribable pains, all the time..

I need to recover, to get a hold on myself.

I will discover what truth is left at all.

 

I sit alone in the blackness of reason;

a pathetic target for the others to tease on.

I don't want to face the pain of publicity,

but I cannot stand the pain of no honesty.

 

Cover me in paint, lock me in my coffin,

never let me see, let not any light in.

I need to be concealed, need to be away

from the lies, scars, and pains of every day.

View unheilig's Full Portfolio