So I wrote another poem. No…I’m not a poet or anything lol. To be honest, when I was a teen I wrote a great deal of poetry. Ghastly, angsty stuff that rhymed cause at the time I really liked it that way. This abomination? The picture of myself I get is in black (as I often am) with a stupid looking beret perched atop my head as I stand upon a stage. Smoking a clove cigarette as I speak in a very Shatneresque way. Another way of saying cliché, non?
Anyhow, this one came to me while washing dishes the other night. I’d say, especially when paired with my last poem, it could have several meanings. I’m just not going to tell you. No. 2
Snow white furs streaked and smudged
Drew closed over her shoulders
Concealing, protecting from cold
The Ice Queen
She drew close to her King
Who sat upon her throne
Deep in thought In a sulk
Alone
Despite pale hands that rest
Starkly so on hepatizon
As tear filled eyes
Watched upon the pleading angel.
He arose at last
Leaving as she trailed
To the threshold where they wait
Minions surrounded
To follow in his wake
In quiet words
To the Dark Knight
Why go with soulless ones.
When I was always here?
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