Thursday, October 15, 2015

Veins by Annapoetaspirant at Alpoetry




The darkness revolves, upturns, will evolve.
A riddle the horrors of sadness can`t solve,
A jagged mirror in the midnight`s  attic
That blunders sharp edges from eternal static.

Eternal, eternal, how puzzling a thought
Which renders the struggle of passion for naught.
Thus nothing pure lasts, succumbed to the restless
Nights of abandoned, dystopian weariness.

Weary, weary from thy bleeding heart obscure,
Drumming dreams about a present so unsure
That it pulses in thy veins, a bleak story of the old.
How can it become thy future, when the ending`s
                                                      almost told?




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 Short Story Slam Prompt 31: 17 days to A Spooky and Sheepish Halloween Night