Site icon Grace of the Sun

Brutally Honest

Pop bubble,
deflate balloon.
Rough troubles,
arrive too soon.
Pain doubles,
inner monsoon.
Clean rubble,
watch blood shot moon.

Bloody words,
escape my lips.
Fly like birds,
that fall and slip.
Look absurd,
clumsily trip.
Visions blurred,
perception flips.

Bled out sounds,
possessed quick tongue.
Left dry mouth,
fled empty lungs.
Tilted ground,
vibrations rung.
Sadness found,
where dreams begun.

Bleeding tunes
ring covered ears,
old thoughts swoon,
to expunge fears,
hopes typhoon
then release tears,
heart cocoons
while feeling clear.

Embrace cares,
fix crooked smile.
Mend despair,
reconcile trials,
Cracks repair,
owns distinct style.
Breathe fresh air,
pure joy compiles.

Blood filled songs,
finally healed,
cure all wrongs,
drop every shield,
thoughts prolonged
until revealed,
truth belongs
to what is real.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 196 July 24, 2023

Exit mobile version