Masochistic Forestry

You stand in line

beneath the deep-rooted oak tree

looking in the mirror

trying to subpoena harmony

the glass

still screams

the cracks

won’t disappear

the incisions still bleed incessant

the wretched soul will never hear

passersby waltz without worry

you trip over your left foot

iron fence marks the heart of a traitor

pristine lips glisten in soot

the house

still scalds

the heat

still soothes

starving bones do wreak their havoc

cast your hope in the light of the moon

‘for the mirror will not lie

will not wool an emerald eye

your secrets that come

they too will remain

and spectators still may

believe in the games

but the curtain’s will not hide

the sleeping monster in the eyes.

-April 22, 2012

~ by candyshele1204 on April 22, 2012.

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