With an infatuation, how can the river run anything but colder?
Like the air surrounding, you live in winter everyday.
You sit, holding a single candle to keep yourself warm,
Desperately grasping its flame, waiting for hope to transform.
When the flame burns to completion you'll have dismay,
Left with nothing but the infatuation that made you colder.
Your last breath is shallow; you're a silhouette.
It's suffocating, the driving force behind your emotions;
Panic fuels you, its only successor is regret.
You try to scream but there's no voice (the product of your devotion).
The silence is calming, you hear birds chirping.
That's what your life has become, the sound of birds chirping.
Panic turns to calmness; you look in the mirror without crying.
Finally, you can breathe again—you whisper in vain.
Following your icy whisper through the night, soon you become lost.
The whisper is allusive—you follow it without trying..
Familiar emotions come rushing back; panic says hello again,
She introduces you to hopelessness—you find yourself lost.
You are one of billions trying to find the meaning of life,
Hyper-analytical and open to theories of nothingness.
The world around you is the world around you, nothing more.
Violently you express emotion, showing tears and war.
Your actions are allusions to you primal distress,
You'll never pray for a savior, you're too full of life.
The night comes to an end and reality sits in disbelief,
The pain you feel leaves you feeling kissed;
Your skin is bled through in spots, hinting you need relief.
In the dark you sit, staring at castrated wrists,
Forever answering questions of broken bones—
Chasing bright lights, the rainbow of your sins is shown.
You write goodbye in the form of a single tear ,
Staining the page of an already stained life.
Your best friend, fear, seduces you for fun—
300 years you have been seduced by fear.
Every road leads towards the same turmoil strife;
Acceptance is your downfall; the emotion you can't overcome.
DannYetman
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/
