Treasure Island

Katerina Val

Sun Of Scissors

You can be so cold
changing through the seasons
speaking on the behalf of people
that missed the chance to grow old

Sun of scissors
You can be half- prepared
for the destruction of no specific reasons
that led people to forget how they still can share
sun of scissors, burn me I am not fair

Sun of scissors burn me if I am not fair….

Sun of scissors
or sun of the scared?
for, if they hold the silver agony
they can behold the golden epitome
of loss

Sun of the scared
did the epiphany held their hearts in rusty holes?
did the consistent prisons refuse to hold them
because they have wanted nothing less
than eating stinky fish
on golden bowls?

Sun of the wise
Correct if I am wrong
functioning before the darkened hermit
oh, he can rip off my soul
correct me through the times I am not so bold
for I refused to miss the chance of growing old

and now the trees will weave my sorrow with silver threads
hanging them from spider tissues
to prove they are dead
for, before mother nature
so few are the tears that I have shed

So now the creatures of this falling land
will knit my empty around the golden sticks
of sad
and the feelings will be proven wrong
before the great qualms that my courtesy froze
Correct you if you're wrong
and excuse the nuisance that you behold

For, sun of scissors
If you cannot feel the sharpness through your teeth
If you cannot touch the coldness hiding behind belief
If you can't reach the night that swallowed you in the deep
Then you are nothing more
than a bright hole of guilt
emptier than me
and while I am running free
You ll never be released
for the ground knits your final sound
and it will be sung
by the lunatic betrayed bee

Now, sun of scissors
You are intoxicated with the dawn
so it's your time to fall
before the change of the ingrained sorrow
that mother nature has to behold
in order to feel complete
before your russet guilt

Sun of scissors
set you free
this reddish hour, we all have to feel complete
it's your turn to fall, prepare
and for nature's shake,

Sun of scissors burn me if I am not fair….

Submitted: Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, January 23, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

a sunny morning when drinking black coffee

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