Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

Destiny of the Dedicated

 

a shaved head, I grind,
eyes jabbed blind
the unseen, still perceive
so fly to hold the blood-stained tree
for I've no recourse bearing me to cope
because I have been reckoned as already dead
and seek the resurrection bread
of the empty vault, but presently ahead
even if the word doesn't rhyme in time
or in my benighted mind
I cannot continue the same
--for 'son' is in my name
for what a flaming shame
I once became

but the childhood secret grows back
therefore no omnipotent strength I lack
opting to renounce all
like a bull catapulting from the stall
embracing the pillars of my call
should I skip over that(?)
living a life that's going flat(?)
or bemoan a Philistine's lot(?)
while grumbling for the wait(?)
no-- 

          I'm destined to be great--

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

destined

◄ Negativity Calls - Ignore It

A Boy on the Shore ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message