Escalating Descent.

A decent descent into an attempt,

a heart’s lament into life exempt.

Innocence, in a sense, credit to my cousin

is a kind of thing that “can” when all else is just “doesn’t.”

The wild winds of justice twisted

Saw a chance to fly, but missed it.

The mind distorted, heart escorted

Adamant and brash, the romance snorted.

Scoffs at thoughts of love ne’er lost,

It held the sorrow and out the window tossed.

What thoughts through my mind can I venture to explore

when I only see the doorknob to a sealed off door?

Unlock my soul and shackles rend

before my head and neck should bend.

I bow to no man who in flesh reigns

Doing what he says and cleaning up his drains.

My thoughts alone propel me forth

May sixth be always before the court.

A justice seeking, none it finds

Only shudders shuttering behind the blinds.

Marred visage, I envisage another

Pray tell, what lies have stumbled my brother?

The flow unruly, unkempt, and wept

Swept beneath the rug he stepped

On when he cried out in agony’s voice.

Oh, what a mistake, what a terrible choice!

Meditations on life he continually wrote

until the savagery within he smote.

Not by rote, but by experience alone

Not knowing what to shun and what to condone.

Sleep overcomes every kind of pain

but in sleeping, one sacrifices possible gain.

So prick me rose, and blood you shall see

Til it springs forth enough to receive.

Take it away, the pain for the pleasure

until the two are equal in abounding measure.

Sacred treasure, the sweetness of a rose’s scent

is countered by a slow, escalating de-scent

of thorns behind morns, as the child mourns

forlorn the sad story of how fury scorns.

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