Pitcher Perfect


Picture, a pitcher of glass,
Into which, all your emotions pass,
You fill in all your sorrows, all your joys,
The pitcher holds them, so you may rejoice.
Cheer the pitcher pours, in times mellow,
Fear the pitcher holds, when you wanna let go.


In all its whims and all its transparency,
You fail to see, the pitcher's capacities,
The pitcher drowns in its own blood,
You blame the pitcher, letting itself flood.
Made if the pitcher was of a mirror,
Maybe then would you reflect on its sinner.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Embers ablaze

Embers ablaze A present from Prometheus to the mortals, An offense for which he was sentenced to a torment eternal. The gift came in unimaginable shapes and forms, But it always managed to keep his beloved mortals warm. You call them sparks, I call them flames, In the end they're all just mere names. Enlighten a home or engorge a town, Were it a person, you'd regret making them frown. Always to be worshipped, n'ver to be mocked. M eet a dreaded fate t hose that dare it anger, to no shock.  An ever-starved   entity, Bound by no sanity. Burning with the light of a thousand Suns, Leaving behind nothing, restrained by none. Sees no child, nor any old, Steals lives, leaves them dead cold. Dramatic, putting shame to theater. A creation feared by its own creator. The heart of a fierce fest, The place for Goddess Vesta to rest, In the temple it would nest, By its irridescence, the empire was blessed, Sacred to Rome, Doused, along with their home, A parental personality, Witnessed a
Read more

Deceit and Disdain

    The dawn of time, A peck on the cheek, Judas to Jesus. The same on emergence of mankind, A dagger through the back, Brutus to Julius. They stay forever the paradigms, Of love, loyalty, envy & trust. A lover's dismay, Revelation of the other's unwelcomed paramour. This very day, could reality be  no more cruel, no bigger horror. Face he could not any more frays, Of life's eternal & inhumane torture. One he believed with his eyes shut, Would tread the world for, till his soles become bones and blood. The heartstring once pulled, now cut, All he sees is a blurry haze as his lost eyes flood The petal once laid, from a blooming bud, Stinging strong thorns on a bed of despair & mud. Believed him, his compadro, He understood him, thought he, Little did he know, That very notion would be the bearer of misery. Why is love hurtful so! He cried, reminiscing his pain & agony. Inferiormost of  hell's troops, Humbles you to the bottomless barrels of sorrow. None c
Read more

Is it enough?

  Eagerly awaits, A lover at opening gates, Perchance lost in this maze, Will he find his precious gaze. Returning his bottoms, just an excuse, To yet again be his only muse. Eyes glazed with honey, Reminder of life's game, unfair yet funny. A child, upset at his smallest (non)vices In a moment, forgetting all his selfless sacrifices. Illiterate in the art of reading a room, Someday will be the beginning of his doom. Gestures, the language of his lover's love, Travelled the seven seas, to show him a turtle dove. Only dreamt of sharing meals, Here he is casually splitting bills. Held hands and shared wolves, Such love was difficult to be understood. Yet n'ver could they apart drift, Cuz wolves, in packs they live. Eyes tired, yet held grace and grievance, For bridges burning, fueled by arrogance. Night changes, they part, A question remains, "Dost thou deserveth, the man that says 'dust thou art'?"
Read more