A Blue Sea, A Mirage Poem by Soran M. H

A Blue Sea, a Mirage
A blue sea- a mirage in the paranoid eye, its blue gone brown.
Night cheats the day in the gambler's gaze.
The sky-a mask worn by the stars, to eyes that trust no light.
Silence- the pause before a plot in a ravaged soul.
Clear water curdles to acid in the wicked mind.
How bitter the wild hills' honey on the tongues of the sick?
How bitter the bread you gave on faithless lips?
A dark soul would seize the sun, spit back its light, smash the lamps- one by one- to see more beautifully.
The longer its reach, the higher its flood: power swelling with the waters of hate.
Beneath the law's thin veil, it sins.
Lies-its politics. Truth-a crime, and honesty, a fool's disgrace.
Before the mighty, a fox, tail tucked; before the helpless, a lion in a fallen wood.
The sick would doctor the sound, cure the whole of an illness born in its own diseased eye.
It tells you:
O Pen- your tongue grows long. It would cut it short.
The arrogant claim the very air inside your chest as their own.
Then thought takes fire-
each drop of a word's blood becomes a poem;
a curse branded upon their brows.