A decade behind me
I dreamt of one in advance
dreamt of three in advance,
Now standing in two advanced
I shiver, I fumble.

Darkness grips uncertainty
Innocence dreamt of roses,
Those of which I received
hand delivered,
Thorns brighter than blood
pricked wit
bleeds uncertainty,
Gushes insecurity.

One decade, couple years
I rewind, I remind,
of dreamt of roses
none of which stung
but smelt of hope of freedom.

Now I, now we fumble,
fumble in unison
housed in dimmed tunnels,
Tell us when tunnels were ever bright,
Reaching for impossible
flaws of youth,
Is the beauty of youth,
Reaching for roses
games of Russian roulette

Oh how we love to bleed
how I love to prick wit
how we dream of new decades
How we love to play,
play a dangerous game.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s