The Waves Are Roughly Swallowed
Tomorrow dawns brightly
He rides the currents of his evasive lover’s emotions,
Sure he’ll find freedom upon the toxicity of his pain,
His screams echoing upon the cresting of the moon,
Holding on for dear life, tempting the wickedness to gain.
🌊
He wallows within the shallow dreams of his existence,
Fighting hard for the voice of the seldom heard,
Cresting upon the waves of life’s torrid harness,
Swallowed within the walls of the tortured and absurd.
🌊
Shadows whisper behind his earnestness, gaining volume,
Sprinkling it all within his conversation in his lover’s ear,
A smile hides the worry, the anxiety, the tears of self worth,
Destroyed and crippled within his years of darkened fear.
🌊
To look into his eyes and see self projected confidence,
Is to fool yourself of the spirituality of signs to come,
To see anything but self destruction and pity unbound,
Is to hide behind the truth of the destiny of some.
🌊
Dressed in the blueness of depression takes unfathomable courage,
Shackled in the colour of the sky, of the earth’s deepest ocean,
Returned to the void of self depreciation, of harmful thoughts,
Saturated within the aching heart and its torpid emotion.
🌊
Gaining ground on a daily basis as he awakens to the real world,
Deciding to honour the beauty of his time here on earth,
Sacrificing his wellness for the shaming of his previous lives,
Forfeiting his wisdom on the day of his rebirth.
🌊
His soul wanders the loneliness of his forgotten endeavours,
A reminder to him once his spirit dies from this earthly plane,
A welcoming home to his pureness and his inner beauty,
To remind that he’d never forego his preciousness in vane.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.