Member-only story
Land of Sands
A poem.
If one were to tell all wicked of tales; one may have seen a clearing beyond horizons veil.
One may certainly too live on in:
constant pain, denial, shame…
a reliving,
of a day, after day…
Constant play, after play,
re-play.
Shuffle & Repeat.
Perpetually living amongst ones feelings of grief —
under deliberate scrutiny.
Fabricated.
Estimated time of arrival, unknown.
Parable; she confesses.
Repressed.
Tension.
Apprehensive; aggressiveness.
The magnitude of truth unveiled shall make it hail exceedingly;
This to be expected.
Nothing short of uncanny.
For those with blindfolds;
masked, and covered with confusion.
Walking around aimlessly waiting for their resolution.
Digest.
Unload, or re-load, who knows.
A train derailed; for nothing less than mass consumption of façade.
Deception.
Perception.
Perception, the greatest pursuit.
RAGE. The opposite of route.
Death.
This is a tale, not for the faint of heart, nor weak.
Exposed.
She walks on, following the sounds of a mad love song.
She wishes all well…
Godspeed.
Please, do revel in her disheveled reveal.
Amused?
Confused?
Disposal.
Thrice, Removed.
Rapid as falls on the edge of a cliff — casting out stones; all seemingly unfit.
Exiled.
Banned.
