efforts always fruitless
My skin seared by your lingering kissesYour silence a mark of the purest ignorance
- or discontentment
Your pride simmers down to arrogance
But underneath it all,
I can taste the self-hatred
When you say the word, “destiny”
I hear, “I need divine intervention”
But angels don’t stop for those -
who yank feathers, pull hair, spit into the dirt,
and who think they are owed salvation and worship
If there was a golden gate waiting ahead, it’d be pyrite
One day, it’ll stop raining - but not for you
You’ll find a dark rain cloud in any limitless sky
You’ll complain and let it fill your crystal glass
Drink and pray to God for wine, efforts always fruitless
Poetry by aidan haskel
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Written on 2024-03-29 at 00:38
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