Apocalypse

 

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I felt the apocalypse,
For I am the one under the blanket of disgrace
Vapours of sullen emotions clamouring the disgust chaos,
I knitted their faces, from core to core
till I knew the point blank.
The whole world, dreaming the dead leaves
an intoxication of swollen wisdom,
For time establishes time.
Reality bites my skin, leaving a yellow mark
a mark of insolent skins,
a mark of insolent smiles.
Dipping in the sublime extensions of rose petals,
churns my thoughts like a needle.
Poking and creating.
The aftermath shall be a mystery.

©My Valiant Soul

 

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

38 thoughts on “Apocalypse”

  13. Making the apocalypse personal demonstrates the intensity of emotion living inside of you.Just as the final words in this piece promise a post-apocalyptic mystery, all your poetry contains an element of mystery as you offer only glimpses of the soul burning beneath the words.

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