A Gentle Birth

Dear sweet symphony,
Cascade me in a soliloquy of sound;
Paint pictures to my closed eyelids,
Arresting my evanescent dreams.

As I’m silently driven by my sorrow,
Bitterness gathers, taking control.
The irony in my solitude snakes its head;
The currents harsh attitude cannot be tamed.

Consequentially, my indifference and ill luck
Smiles acutely from arising smoke stacks;
Cracking burnt lips, grotesquely slathered with style,
Of bursting lungs, filled with the coming cold.

"I see," said the blind man.
"You're a liar," said the dummy.
With tattered hips they tango,
Their empty pockets leading them home.

“Cadaver your wits, dear child.
Conspicuous angels mark your way,
For shame is sneakily robust,
And your wired feet are sinking into stone.”