Pyre Of Metal Poem by Kevin Maroney

Black ball twirling round the pyre,
riddling, spiraling ever higher.
Such a perplexing, stifling fire,
whose ever function, obsidian liar.

It burns to sky, a great black puff,
like some polluted, cottony stuff,
as if from some silvertongued fluff,
Yet not in vision, a fighter tough.

My mind spun throughout my sense,
Everything twirls, round the fence,
a wall erected between you and me,
as if you saw such a family,
a living bloat, a floating boat,
full of every animal,
yet devoid of sadness, fear, and hope,
never dare to hope again.

This sadness pounds between the brows,
the water chilling to senses true.
Solution found to block it out,
become a chilling metal too.

Heat's devoid of it's lick,
even a hobtoed boot's thick kick,
a whip of words becomes a trestle,
filled with a whetstone to grind the metal.

Such candid words, yet not true to thee,
I see through your sorrow, to a heart filled with glee.
Know you what've done, to a heart filled with joy,
heardened to metal, to not fall for your ploy?

It calls like death, filled with no cry,
no sadness, no happ'ness, no urge to try....