Prisoners of Shadow

as the last petals fall

red is only another color

the rose runs like drops of blood

whirling in the wind before falling onto my cold touch

crumpling into the weak ragged skin

that covers my existence

the reality of the bare ground in front of me

and the feeling of being trapped

in the darkness

blockade on the wall

me looming in the cell

shivering yet in summer

breaking the only living thing

stop telling me to try, again and again

keep telling, stop failing

never will be free

simply a prisoner of stereotypical angst

another fading soul from the load of criticism

sitting at rock bottom, trying to go up

helplessly carrying boulders

something so weak, dark and evil

yet indestructible

always there but never seen

a better version of life

twisted into a cruel tale

dancing in the wind

the last sense of life

rampaging through the night

are the monsters of our own

the creatures, hurtful as they are

a picture in a broken frame

a mere mirror image

reminders of our past

eternally burning through the wax

fragments of insecurity and guilt

churning anger, hate, distress

happiness is a sailed ship

and depressed, high adolescents

products of the lamenting torture

a glistening sunset

over the endless blue ocean

exquisitely beautiful

covering corpses of buried souls

haunted lives

widowed of hope and faith

separated by perfection

trembling through the waves

voice breaking in the pain

color another disappearance from the face

a cover with a sad smile

drawing two-faced lies

where poisonous thoughts

are a figment of imagination

sharp as needles

spinning away our lives

the apple is long gone from the tree

sweet to the look

bloody to the touch

trophies of a vampire diary

forever rotten to the core

evil burning inside

a lesson to the dead

a memory to the living

a bible to the believers

painting life of the fakers, lovers, strugglers

covered by fictitious lies

the tale of the prisoners of shadow

-Jeffrey Yang

#poetry