Seething
Reactionary
Melancholy
anything but, a merry go round
Feels
like my soul’s been ground
Feelings
are such shallow sounds
Those
vibrations within, no sympathy, empathy or bounds
When my
psychological make-up runs
The
fusion weighs in at tons
Resultant
confusion, a bad tempered intrusion
Tempest
of hate that defies any reasonable state
So look
at me and the daggered eyes will be drawn
I’ll see
your imperfections and will shower you with silent scorn
Two sides
of a manicured lawn
Turned
upside down and tallest are the thorns
Dare you
to walk close and, then the kind kiss
The
contained abstract is the unlocking caress
This is
either imagination or hallucination
But it
ends in sorrowful tears into a hope-filled laugh of optimism
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