Tu Con El

Fri, 07/17/2015 - 00:55 -- Iscarus
 
I never left the sink on,/
But I might've left the shower all the way if I needed something to think on,/
Liberation came in the form of her absences. /
Liberation came in from her absences.../
 
The winter's coming had only seemed to mock me as the;/
Smiles tripped, flipped, and tricked into the plain. /
Plain as day when the monotony sucks you into the motions./
The winds whips cause my tears to be runaway slaves. /
I force my blood to not clot but run away as the pulse forces it into the pits and cages that I am./
 
Rages against the machine that I am. /
Ages turn those tears into kamikaze mirrors because I see myself falling.  /
Crossing the roads and burning the bridges./
Ink spills of the page but drips off the ridges. /
That's a double standard, /
But the standards are half as what they should be./
100 percent of time she isn't there. /
And that there is the problem,/
The problem that's lurking,/
Like behind you was your shadow,/
But your shadow isn't the only thing dark in yourself. /
 
This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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