Disgruntled Disarray
Listen to poem:
In every weary word, there is a selfish storm,
Within a blinding blurred of a formless form…
Thoughts are lost amidst the negligent nights,
Tongues are tossed upon blasphemous bites.
Cloudy confusion arises from its sacrificial still,
As the able abeyant advises the wandering will…
The silence surrenders to the drowning deluge,
For the rain remembers to release in its refuge.
Where the idealized illusions come out to play,
The stigmatic seclusions dormant in disarray…
Whirl winding whispers decay in the distance,
Amongst tangled twisters of raging resistance.
Nov.19.2019
Disarray Poetry
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
N/A for contest
Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2019
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