Bereft
I am what's left,
Bereft.
My sliced slivers,
Never selected, never chosen.
Time cradles stagnant shame.
My weeping, these tears,
Nourishment for the roots.
This garden of despair,
This garden of mine.
I tend to these black roses,
In reality,
In my mind.
Respire!
These hopes,
These dreams,
Cradle all I've laid at stake.
Murderous words sent,
Thought all the same.
This container,
I abandoned,
No invitations sent.
Sickening cycles,
My life a warped vinyl.
No remedies, no infusions.
"Optimism is key!"
"Thanks lady!"
"How much does my Uni-Polar owe ya,
For words so profound?"
Up late,
Painting depraved.
Bringing vibrance to crazed.
"Oh, you think it’s beautiful,
I’m amazed!?"
"I call it, 'Hysteria Untrained'"
"Would look even better framed!"
Yet no one is willing to pay!
By: Lynsie Chase
