when all seems wasted…


Thus after reading Edith Wharton’s, Ethan Frome, a tale which though embodying all aspects of a good classics, lacks any beauty of iridescence. I’ve decided to write the following…


when all seems wasted

wasted
existing
without magic
of dark passion
emotion hidden in strange realms
concealed deeply in piles of conventions
with a sad soul
that can’t contain the feelings
a mind
that can’t erase images plaguing the eyes
sounds plaguing the ears
desires wandering towards some distance
away from this wasted place
to bright lights
as happiness
as colour
away from hidden obsession
towards faint glimmers of pleasure
towards some unknown tragic thing
that will keep us all
in sadness
existing…

© mvclarke, March 2019

Thanks to the Rag tag and Daily Word prompts…

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