Of Angels, Madness, and Vision

I spin in circles throwing poetry at everything,
hoping that the beauty anesthetizes and
disguises the pain of the world for a time.
—–

I hold to the cliff,
hanging by my fingertips,
clinging to sanity,
as madness whispers
sweet nothings in my ear,
falling is not an option.
—–

I armour myself
with words, they become a sword
and stab vision forth.
—–

An Angel haloed in white lightning,
Descends on wings of pale sheeting rain,
Calls out the crimson words of God,
with blue-voiced thunder.
—–

Please Check out my Patreon and contribute should you wish to.
Always remember Poetry isn’t a Choice.

Also, I’m still working on my Passion Project, my Poetry collection, In Media Rêves. Check out my GoFundMe and contribute if you would like.

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