Poetry: The Weakened Front

The Weakened Front
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Cream puff eyes filled with happiness;
Wavering, trembling from apparent madness.
Stricken is the heart in flame,
Blowing in the wind of blame.
Simple bloodshed in the soul;
Another life at end to toll.

Through sanity’s farce
And summation of fear,
Brings a smiling face
From the cheek-soaking tear.

Excitement from the path to life —
Living bravely in the wrath of light.
Fingers smooth from rocks in hand,
Dust settles obscenely in the grasp of man.

A night with Whippoorwill breath on air
Can charm the snakes from Medusa’s hair.
Her trance-like eyes dispose of trust
Bringing calm and calamity with untold lust.

Weary from a sleepless wake,
My hand strokes memories; some feeling fake.

Aware of what I am today
Unknown to what I’ll be some day,
The forest scent calls me near
Tonight I’m weakened; left from here.