Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

UnWitting MonSter

I'm just going to go with this thought:

I'm like that monster that
doesn't know it's a monster until
it gets a hint from
the view in other's eyes.

If they're not running from his countenance,
they're hurling rocks,
prepared to fight with a fire
he doesn't bring.

This man without a true mirror,
who just feels, then acts, with his heart,
stands alone in your
cobblestone streets longing.

Are there scars upon my face
that I cannot see, or
do I ignore what is as plain as
the cliché appendage?

Your fires reflect in these dull pupils.
Your heat singes tender skin,
blistered and ravaged by wounds of words
I neglectfully cast, come back.

Wounded in your town square,
surrounded by visions of you not there,
I sit upon the fountain's edge
yearning the knowledge to understand

why am I a monster, again?


8.24.21

What's more crude than a monster, those who would apply labels?

That was too easy. Wrote in less than half the blogged song's time (longer to edit). Godless, again. Thanks Dandy's...