Bloody Awful Poetry
Copyright© 2024 by A funny bowl of custard
Chapter 42 30 1 09
30-1- 09
From the pit of the abyss
I sit answering unspoken phrases
As the world turns to ice around me
Barely crawling to this indemnity
As my pain offers a sound plea
To end this industrious phase
My Grani, my accomplice
In the steeping excess
Of arriving here
With impassion clearing
Constantly fearing
The inevitable fall
Of the system I’m relying upon
Among the simple prying sun
Unable to provide its call
Among the falling frozen tears
The system has always failed
No matter how many times I’ve railed
For, against, and in spite of it
The pain I provide now is a deposit
Against what I will feel later
Bristles brush the bane out of me
Even as I cater
To familiar frivolity
In my lack of liberty
As always the system does fail me
Knock off and attempt to impale me
On the full weight of its absurdity
Common sides
Inevitably collide
In this endless abyss
Staring into me
As I stare out of it
Pain felt seems to reside
In a death kiss
Of caring by me
My apathy knows no bounds
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