A quarrel in our head.
Sometimes we end up fighting.
Sometimes we end up dead.
But as the days go by.
I've come to realize.
Leave no memory or stone unturned.
For empty thoughts and words leave us yet to yearn.
The fire breathing dragon leaving us all to burn.
Paths all crossed.
Ideas left to rot.
Gone is the driftwood that once stood.
Strange all the way under the hood.
Earth unsettled, such mettled mess.
The approaching sun has yet to confess.
The hearts desire is a strange secret.
Locked within deep and jagged thorns,
to brutal to ever cross.
The keeper of pain.
He needs no name, for he is mere decaying flesh.
Bury his body deep.
So that no matter where you are he still can not reach.
An Eiffel Tower, sitting on an adjacent cliff.
The storm of great the rifts hits.
And it seems at times like it will collapse.
But it still stands, and edge put upon the brand.
No longer so dull.
Given character, and strength.
Bitter are the times calm weather.
For they do not deliver the unexpected.
Dancing in the rain for it is the perfect change.
Chasing a mouse of a reflection.
He is not me or is he?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderfully creative write. Am so enamored with the line, The hearts desire is a strange secret locked within deep and jagged thorns to brutal to ever cross What am a amazing mind you have! So well done!