The Runnaway and Her Guide

Her heart, bears down in her caved in chest, like an anchor,

Too heavy, are her steps that make deep impressions

In the soft snow, leaving her trail as she tries to vanish

From a villainous, overbearing shadow, closely following

As she sluggishly drags herself, wounded by a distraction,

A path, that sat so clouded, she couldn’t see the descent,

Fallen, so far down the rabbit hole, with the weight forcing

Her down further, nothing to ease her into liberation,

The shadow, ingests any inkling of light, trying to squeeze

Through a swell of darkness, only to have her crash

Back into the clinging holds of the shadow’s depression,

She claws at the abyss, escapes and carries her sorrow,

On the run again, she’s found, but by a carrier of light,

An albino raven, hoping to carry her heart, in aid

So that she can fade, past sight of the stalking shadow,

So the raven takes hold, of her weighted torment

As she starts to walk, a little easier, leaving no trace

For the eager and engrossing shadow to plague,

Yet it rolls forward, sniffing for her distinction,

Closing in, the raven urges, for the runaway to hasten

As the raven feels her slipping, back into extinction,

He then spreads his wings, eclipsing the rolling black,

Hoping to cloak her, with her languid fractured heart,

The raven does not abandon her side, as she collapses,

But now, a shallow drop, for she has her loyal guide

To carry her out of the fog, and when she slips again,

He’ll pick her back up, filling in the shadow’s nest,

To one day, sustain the crushing pendulum of her anguish.

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What Once Was

Torn paper, left in the shadow of ruin,
No matter the words stained there
A fire, breathes out from the lost rage,
It doesn’t belong here, what was once
A place of ease and passion,
Yet the fire rummages within this place,
Breaking what once was,
Gaining speed and strength in its swift
Movement through the deserted light,
It swallows everything, leaving it all in ash
Unrecognizable remnants of memories
Out of mind, buried in the flame,
What was once a home, is now
A cemetery, with no one to mourn
For the passing, the vanished life of all
Who laughed within these walls, cried
And shook in the comforts of loving arms,
Step out, beyond the chaos of what once was
And see the world, matches the home in ash.

©DorianPoe2016

Future

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How transparent is the road ahead?
How many hands claw at you
As you mud though the prickling road?
Do you find yourself being pulled back
To the place where you’ve been burnt?
Have you been stranded here long,
Looking at the blind compass
Battling the barking low
Of what you left behind,
What do you see, on the plateau
In the still yonder?
Or are you taking steps in the preceding?