power isn’t pretty, practical or tame.
once here as a pristine, poignant drop of rain,
now dreams with the devil…he goes by your name.
you have lost your ability to be sane.
twisted in tree trunks, wilting in a drain.
cold, convoluted - co-existing with fame.
from fire and fury you harvest the grain.
false fortune and fortitude only dulls pain.
others’ orders ostracize outcomes of the brain -
convincing your conscious to heal the lame.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
the power you possess leads to
outcomes only contained in a
fronted frame - borrowed
from the devil, still trying to
maintain a halo to convince
others they must pray.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
opened eyes are the
only solution offered to
break…to end…the stay.
[an exercise in alliteration and syllable counts]
About the Creator
Christine
I currently reside in NC, born and raised in WA. I’m a mother, a software manager, a lover of nature and a writer. My greatest hope is to bring peace, love and compassion to the world my children will inherit.
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