by Brian Francis
What could it be that could nudge the thought to mind.
Wherein does the specter lie, ignoring lessons learned
of kindness and deciding to raise the hand of violence.
How does it look to see one walking on Cain's path
to see that certain something that reveals inner thought.
How does one see the deceit behind the pleasant smile.
Dreary, sullen, abandoned, withdrawn, lost to happiness;
skulking in the shadows delusion, with anger stewing inside.
Sorrow filled dwelling among vestiges of self-mourning
Lost to the cause of life and taunting death's sickle like swing
Wanting death? Oh, I can understand that wholeheartedly.
When pain visits upon you and wrestles with your will
inviting disillusion. Being racked with pain becomes life's regret
when depression's tide flows our anchors drag us down.
Burdens weigh on us as we are struggling in torture's spasms
it feels as though we drowned in life's constant bombardment.
Reaching for an edge
How can a person decide that innocence must suffer at their side
To kill and enjoy the tempest - playing god as you strike them down.
Like a cancer spreading, sorrow metastasizes to other families
each blow a loss of love releasing the tide of sorrow and sadness
Posted on 03/17/2018
Copyright © 2018 Brian Francis
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/25/18 at 04:04 AM|
Brian, your poem has a prescience for today what with the marches throughout the U.S. It causes me to take a look at the darkness within that prompts violence. As I read your beautifully written poem, I had the thought that some of the people who do these shootings could perhaps have profited by writing poems about their inner demons. It certainly works for me anyway. Thanks Brian.