The cold does not possess me yet,
being still consumed by the fire
I do not take flight,
but sit, waiting
It will come to me eventually
to have hope is one thing,
but to endure is another
Endure the glances and the whispers,
the abuse of silence
the ruthless tool of the detached
But i must wait,
the choice no longer mine,
having given up discernment of my own
Resolution will be exact,
leaving them with themselves,
no longer the faults of others
but until then,
I wait in the fire
2 comments:
Watch what? You'll have to explain that one.
Your secret poetic skill that has emerged on here is stunning, by the way. i mean, i know you've said you're a poet, but i didn't REALLY know it.
(and check out that rhyme)
You're full of surprises.
I agree with Amelia. You're so emotionally intense and it's great! Also, you should post soon and often, bi-otch.
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