#oxymoron

In my subconscious mind
I'm a bottle of grief, unopen but
sup by the dullness of despondency
xanthic blue the waters inside me
bittersweet taste and a silent crowd
humblebrag about my woes

Gorgeous the lies are
as my bone-marrow surrounds by
dead buzz of bees, occured to me
the bleeding tulips slowly blooming to roses
'Unto the partial havoc I was the
completely harvested dream of demons'

Woods and uncharted heaven,
corpses in the unfed graves are
the withered blooms of expired euphoria.
And I'm the young cloud of old
skies who halts the poignant call
to reach The God's Lyre

The unanswered sorrow
is turning me into a lurid melody
to deafen the poetic archers in the
calm wars of time and fate.

© vibhuti