I am in a thoroughly confused puddle of my own soup..
Is this a thunderstorm?
Or is it a windfall?
Is this destruction? Or are the flakes flaying away?
Is there zilch paint left in the mind pallet?
Or are there none to praise the beauty that was once the becoming and end of many hearts?
Is the tree hungry for shade from the sun or does it still desire to grow unto the sky shield..
Is the man a coward or is he just a personification of need and hunger?
Is the blundering heart novice or is it defiant convict?
Is the heart still falling? Is it falling or has it passed with healing prayers?
Is the heart still desiring of the dreams once preyed upon with howling zealous cravings?
Or has it downed the hope juice with a bitter taste of its own sword?
Does it Moan at core and hum at the brim?
Or does it howl on the barricades and strip naked silent in the cave?
What am I up against? My own words or the low voices of the fateful passerby?
Which scene is the moment portraying-My footprints in dust progressing or the hideaway in hanging closet of darker attired days?
Wondering or hoping selfishly? Hopeful or Fool-some?
Predator or surviving killer? Who are you going to become?
Who is going to take over the servile hearted specie?
My confusion shall set you either free.. or pull you into a warring circle,
You are both a coward and a hungry sinner..
Your heart is stained in your lust ,
But needs to keep on keeping on..
Ploughing and bludgeoning on..succumbing to the many naive questions.. hoping to keep the innocence alive..