Delusions Of Grandeur - Poem by Marcellino Carlo
The air smells of melancholy
A charcoal sketch laced with
gloom and the incumbent
heavenly burst of rain.
Such a deathly damask
promised in it's overbearing shadows.
We lie in total encapsulation
Severed from the worlds
grace. And delivered into
a cocoon which binds our beings.
An intertwined shell lined with
hatred that we call our home.
A steal a glance over my shoulder
at your still frame. Gracefully
stuffed in the linen safety-net.
Your dark hair flows in vulnerable
streams. I pull up a chair and
gaze into your pitiful situation.
Your fabled existence tells of no
hardships not even an etched scar
or blemish. A beguiling expression
of a tapered soul. Weathered and
abrased by a childhood riddled with
pain and resentment. I fear you more than I do myself.
I gallantly strut towards your timeless
frame. A glass mold that I roll-over
ever-so-gently. I won't break you. For
how could a cruel soul shatter that which
has been broken so carelessly before.
I lick my lips in a famished countenance of hunger.
I stare at your light grey guise. Such
heaven-chiseled grace. But I can't see your face.
Blurred by the cataracts of my aged mind.
A viscous red bursts through the panes.
Your grey-figure is addled by the rouge stain.
And I realise you're long gone. It's just my mind,
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