Despair
Night descends
From these shameful depths
Into the bottomless pit
That is our selves -
Where we eviscerate all traces,
Hide what cannot be eviscerated,
Disguise what cannot be hidden –
Till all we were
Has suffocated
Under a dark blanket
We mistook to be night
And a heart-stopping thrill
We mistook to be freedom
Bookmark and Share:
Categories: Poems
The poem comes full-circle with another smaller circle hidden inside it. This is how you “craft” a poem. Well done, Imaginary, well done.