Poetry and torment

Posted: May 3, 2016 in Poetry


Poetry is a language of the tormented,
Silently ticking souls whose life’s fragmented.
Hardened hearts that cry tears of stone
Hidden pains to reveal, betrayal’s spawn.

It’s a silent cry of an encrypted heart,
From whose chambers hope has flown.
It’s the last beacon, an esoteric art,
For those who rarely see the dawn.


©David 2016
“Art is the language of the tormented, but the world is blind to that, for ever blind…The world [holds] up its illusions and we, with our single visions, miss most of the world. but eyes were always weak at distinguishing truth from lies”  ( Steven Erikson —- Forge of Darkness)


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