Is a man or woman mad in a powergrab? Is there hope or despair in a screencap? I don't know where the hate starts, is a man just a beast born to rape parts? At first glance it's a seed of suspicion, it blooms fast if you look a little different. Can we build trust, or can you not? It's clear as day to the world, theres a root rot.what has fate got? What has faith wrought? When the world is a game with a sick plot. Heel face turns, friends into enemies, a desire to wish away old memories. The yearning for a broken past, isn't answered and wouldn't last. Ten minutes is all it would've taken, is there anything left or am I simply mistaken? What's the key to the heart of the matter born to close the door to the dark that gathers. Is there hope, or am I mad as a hatter? Hoping for psyche quick as silver, to see the light or just a sliver? Walking under platinum stars to crush the golden world that bars maid and man from sanity, by crashing right the wrongs that the hand to me. Yet no fist can break this wall, ethereal and mutating above all. Why am I too far away from those of which I care about? Such flames do not grow cold and then shout, they can only lose fuel and die out.
Get AI Feedback on your poem
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If You Need Support
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741