The Shadow Home Show
as told by the wallflower
Shadows dance cross blank canvas walls
The freedom of the space a paradise contradiction
To the cluttered floor bound to chaos
/
Feet shuffle and stomp crushing junk
While shadowed limbs flail ungracefully across open sky
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They say smoke rises, yet the breathing room is bigger up top
On the ground there’s too much broken glass
And shattered hopes that have yet to float up to the stratosphere
/
The fly on the wall has the best view
Both shadow and existence unharmed by what’s below
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A wallflower tries to bloom in the corner but gets stamped out
It had its roots too low
It shouldn’t have tried to negotiate space (your fault)
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The scene is put on mute
The jarring acoustics add too much to bear
/
No one wants a poem about yelling
So shadows tussle cross empty wall space silently
Trying to claim a sense of this harsh twisted reality
Comments (6)
💚💛 well done, dramatic, and very deep. 
On the ground there’s too much broken glass And shattered hopes that have yet to float up to the stratosphere These two lines were my favourite in this profound poem of yours! You're freaking brilliant!
The rush of wind, the crackle of a fire--or is it broken glass?--stark contrasts of light & shadow, jerkily crossing like a black & white movie that keeps glitching, filled with memories of sound & fury & laughter & life..., & loss. Beheld without a word, simply trying to comprehend.
Super surreal!!! Sadly shadows show stratosphere silently shattering.
Disturbing and beautiful... I like the combination of sensations in this one. Well done!
Poor Wallflower got stamped out 🥹💙🙈Everyone needs room to sprout!