Waiting still, your deception hangs in the air;
Forever like a mountain, Unsurmountable.
Your simple lies give you no solace,
This Ethos of fabrication you hold;
Is naught but a precarious vizard,
Conviction, it provides none.
Future consigned to perdition,
The only progression is of woes,
Your halcyon ratiocination vanquished,
The sense of Bliss; now routed and trounced,
Restless denials would not keep any longer;
Your wretched forage for a repose.
An amatuer writer trying to establish himself as free verse poet. Displaying depression and human desperation along with the sins they commit especially pride. For now I am only writing short free verses but my goal is to someday pen lengthy poetry and prose. I hope to get at least one book published in time.