Wind Doesn’t Lift the Weight

Poetry Project #34

The Wind It Seems

The wind it blows my hair around
The wind it seems to bring me down
Upon a cloud the sun does sit
Upon my mind thoughts are lit

The dark redeems the worst of deeds
As Satan plants his demon seeds
Beneath the ashes of my desire
To keep sanity from lifting me higher.

Torture, rape, death, and destruction
Pleasure, pain, most of all seduction
Lie in wait beneath the layers
To meet the breath of their portrayer.

It seems I have become asleep
Hidden from what makes me weep
This chill in the air brings out the pain
The wind is taking what’s left to gain.

An early night has come to pass
Dreams start to spill in one big mass
The stars rise to meet the sky
As memories fade beneath the eye.

April 17, 2001 (age: 17)




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