Obscurité

I open myself to the light 
To cleanse my soul
But the darkness 
Takes advantage of me
And haunts my bruised bones
It runs like a wolfhound
With flowers 
Between its teeth
Offering me beautiful tragedy
In the form of sweet release

Reviews

[Michael G. Smith]

I remember my younger years as these. Depression was a drug craved and if I felt good I surmised that worse would soon be coming my way. You did justice year with the vivid metaphors.