After all the blows and headshots

I shall not bow or let my knees drop

My silence being mistaken

for resignation

And yet sometimes I too can not tell the difference

From birth the waves of joy have always been my adversary

And torrents of torment a close companion

An embodiment of pandoras box

Though something subtle burns pleasingly inside at the presence of poingnance.

Mans eyes should be the chimney to the soul

Mine clouded with clear streams of wist

Do you see the vacancy in these tunnels?


© LaurenTarabori