The Sweetest Grapes (By Mimi C Mata) Poem by Mimi Mata

Hello there,
In your armor of dark,
Did you come because I spilled my wine?

Or is it my eyes you love,
How they flickered the fire,
You knew and adored?

Yet maybe,
Just maybe, in this lonely hour,
You can hold your minions,
That tortured my dreams,

How my soul evaded like smoke,
In the eyes of all that I spoke to...

Sanity in a chalice,
Will become spilled wine,
'Or so you say'

And insanity will taste,
Like the sweetest grapes in spring.

And to my dissipated knowledge,
I will make a pledge...
For God to save me,
For God to save me...

I ask,
Will you search through my glass heart?
Estranged and stained;

That I believed in justice,
Despite my wars?

That I welcomed love,
Although I suffered within the hands,
Of all I knew to believe...
Loved me?

Did they love me,
In ways of love,
Or of that of the grotesque?

Either way,
I believe it was just the melancholy passing of sadness;
Like that of a dying petal
That my soul suffered from...

And the snake licking my dead thorns,
Did not bother me,
Because I am human...

Now what am I?
Another evil or of that of God?

Will the wings that you offer me,
Smell of coal and turn to ash?

For the sweetest grapes
That the devil drank...
Tasted bitter.