When 'everything' isn't good enough,
And silent flows the rage,
Embers continue to smolder,
Though the inferno came of age.
This rage, both vague and conspicuous,
benevolent and mean,
unselfish and self seeking,
This rage is not hate,
It stems from your intense yearning.
As I sit gazing out the window,
Hoping to never see you again,
The rage is what tells me this elixir is the plague,
Hence i'm writing this, after it's too late,
When 'everything' isn't good enough,
then silent flows the rage....
And silent flows the rage,
Embers continue to smolder,
Though the inferno came of age.
This rage, both vague and conspicuous,
benevolent and mean,
unselfish and self seeking,
This rage is not hate,
It stems from your intense yearning.
As I sit gazing out the window,
Hoping to never see you again,
The rage is what tells me this elixir is the plague,
Hence i'm writing this, after it's too late,
When 'everything' isn't good enough,
then silent flows the rage....
2 comments:
It's beautiful. Meaningful and deep.
Sometimes, in life, things go so awry that it invokes a storm of feelings.
But, storms don't last.Even if it is never the same, peace always follows.
Keep writing even if a few lines once in a while. :)
The problem is that such events leave you changed....even if you know what part of you is being changed, there is nothing you can do about it, just helplessly watch yourself being damaged...sometimes I wish I could write about happy things....
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