Inkling of Solace

French phrases drift into the wind,
dancing in the summer days.
But just like history,
it quickly fades away;
into the recesses of our minds
stored in our fragile designs;
as we cling to romantic dreams
that circumstance and society deems:

unrealistic and unfeasible,
that hope might as well be unbelievable...

So lifeless when living
and dead when awake,
One step turns into another
until it's the jump I take.
Into the black abyss,
without a saving grace.
Struck raw and white
by an unfamiliar place.

I'm asking to be unseen,
from all the disapproving eyes,
filled to its brim,
with uncompromising lies.
Because veracity is a fallacy
and love an unfulfilled desire,
utterances of a few words
are all that they require.

The fairy tales have burned.
Ashes scattered across the sea.
The soot smeared on my cheek,
a small shade of my identity.
Like tears of ink upon paper,
bounded and abandoned into books,
never read nor ever heard
yet always seemingly overlooked.

A disastrous beauty
and broken melody,
torn at its very strings.
The harps without angels
and angels without wings
are songs without words,
that no one will ever sing.
Because the shackles
are what holds us down,
and the keys were never made.
Yet we are ALL to blame,
but no one is ashamed?
Are we blind to it all?
Grasping in the dark?
Our bruises go unnoticed,
along with our scars and other marks;
that tally up all of our days
of precious, yet wasted time.
As Paris becomes tarnished,
and London covered in grime.
Rome is overtaken by rust,
leaving Greece to be abraded.
Is it truly inevitable?
All of its art, to be faded?
Replaced by bias ideals
in a world we consider real?

No! Take me out if you must.
But don't murder my perceptions,
with your fabricated photos,
I'd rather keep my imperfections.
Sorry if I'm not what you wanted,
my apologies, I cannot conform.
Your efforts will be wasted,
and a part of me forlorn...

Because I'm outside looking in,
deciphering means that are within.
as the black abyss grows hazy
and I'm trapped inside my head.
But my eyes are wide open,
my thoughts are just unsaid.
But soon the morning dew will come
I fear, to conquer then to weep.
For I never stood a chance
a blade of grass fated for sleep.


*Sequel to my poem "Victim of Infinite Sleep"
**Dedicated to Blake