My body my mind, chiseled in, fading time.
Drawn to the brink, ever I sink, into you.
Carefully crafting sermons that teach, only me, to see.
I’m so thirsty for the flames
Something to burn away, a light so bright, you’d find me.
But I’m just a little black box four square corners of recorded thoughts
My story is the telling of truth
And it’s all just a lie, a little black box without its disguise
Still every day from the wreckage of hope I drag these tortured dreams
Defy what I know to be broken
Swear what I know can’t be spoken
If for just one moment for all to see, I’d be more than these four corners, I’d be more than just me
But I’m just a little black box four square corners of recorded thoughts
My story is the telling of truth
And it’s all just a lie, a little black box without its disguise
That was really good. 🙂
The representation of yourself as a little black box. Wonderful Perspective 🙂
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Thanks so much for taking the time read read.
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Wow the complexity of the lies we tell yourself and the power of our denial.
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Thanks for commenting and reading, really appreciate it.
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My pleasure CD
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“I am so thirsty for the flames.”
“Defy what I know to be broken
Swear what I know can’t be spoken”
The imagery in these parts are like a painting that really uses the palette of comparative colors in a complimentary manner. I am impressed by the gift of eloquence in this poem.
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Thank you for taking taking to the time to read my work and comment.
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fantastic
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Thanks so much for taking the time to read it.
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You’re welcome
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Reblogged this on The Wall and commented:
Immerse yourself in art and beauty, and never stop expressing it. Life is more than just a little black box.
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