When The Clouds Float In My Head - Poem by Deanna West
Flames of gold and tears of ice -
There is no cure for this device that rolls me through the sky.
Long paths of thorns and sharp-edged whispers
Cut and scar from womb to grave...
Well, I hate you too.
Flesh of flesh, but not the same-
This blood is warm and won't play your game of false praise and taunts.
These eyes look higher beyond your sky
And into a wisp of grander pain...
My dawn begins with a newborn prayer-
My day floats under a gentler sun-
My dusk falls under a warmer moon where the glow of dust
Settles my rage into ashes of past.
Your torches burn and feed my Hell but my Heaven will always prevail.
I loathe your hate and judgement of my sins-
I can forgive but I can not forget the worse sins of a hypocrite.
My sins are innocent and pure though my soul is dark and shattered.
You can hate and rage and judge
But My Clouds Will Never Smudge...
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