And they spin faster.
Hands are wrung.
Worn through
Worries and
Joys alike. An
Unstoppable
March repeating
Itself all the
World over.
Different stages
End the same.
Because the spinning
Won’t ever slow.
And only stops
Once.
Blood red.
Black marked.
Snuggled in a
Dying leaf.
Finding warmth
In this desolate
Winter waste land.
A little Gothic bug.
Looked so lonely.
Yet shone so brightly.
A single remnant,
The colour of joy.
This tiny ladybird,
To give it one
Of oh, many names,
Caused me so much
Pause for thought,
I did not notice.
It was my time
To scuttle on
Home.
To speak
With false voice.
And smile
With false joy.
Is a skill to be
Cultivated
And cared for.
Yet to write
With fake words.
And a stolen style.
Will lead only
To revelations.
And tangles
Of lost souls.
My blood is singing,
Its song that makes
My heart cry.
A pounding joy.
Beating, spreading,
To swirl inside
A porcelain skull.
Louder and louder.
Bursting to be free.
Heard in the world,
And understood
In words.
There is no
Reason
For all your
Actions
I can find no
Excuses
But please don’t
Relent
I will hear
Nothing
As I have found
Joy
In all your
Coldness
And want to
Watch
You act without
Reason
Until we reach
The
End
The laughter echoed
Down the dark lane
Bouncing off broken walls
Finally filling the ears
Of those willing to listen
Till tendrils invade their
Eyes, letting them
See the way the world
Burns when he laughs
And cracks when
He smiles. Blistering
Blackening to the tune
Of his endless joy
Would you be mine?
Sweet gentle and mine
Strong harsh and yours
Will you be here always?
But only when I want you
Can you praise me without fail?
Only when I deserve it
Will your eyes see only me?
And notice all that brings me joy
But nothing that brings pain
Will you be mine?
Say yes to all I ask
If you will
You should not
If I did ask
Would you tell me never again?
Then it Started 