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 Grandeur Of Melancholy      15838 Poems Read


Rebel 7


Gone is the rebel from the life.
A freak and lonely wanderer.
A loser and bind up face.

A lucid from template design.
Into grander vision. Dilute from reality.

Stalking prey.
Loneliness.

Rebel 7.
Gone, dust.
On skeleton wings.

This leash is off, never God nor devil have I claimed.
Power of both. Would I be damned?
In focus, of mine, would clarity I be. What find would the character
define anything.

Stalking beasts.
Loneliness.
Wanting to leave these thoughts with me-
Pain it came so easy but joy apart.
Why is life trying for an adult don't you remember?

Child, why do look with empty eyes.
Rebel no more, no less.
No phoenix rose from the ash.
You crumble to dust.

Wander away from a concrete world. The flicker of red and green.
From frets from pride. Could I choose a day I feel something.

To communicate what I hide in these empty eyes.
That feels lost but no savior.
Only my melancholy.

The cave-in of thoughts and moods
Lost in tunes.

Listen to my sad song.
To be an outcast and to folly my gain.
Like hypnosis caused before.
Listen to my sad song.

Chance the world caving in your ambition.
Wandering and turning against the dear one.
Why do I do me wrong?

I must rebel against these untold.
Seven ways to heaven and hell and in one chord.
Through the fog can I see past myself.
Indifferent leave it all behind.
The wars we wage
against each other. Is alive.




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