DEJECTED

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

A rotating prison…
This desolate dungeon,
All the while my smile,
Creating illusion.
Slurry speech tongue heavy,
Sun rising already,
Dismal road toting load,
Bag of woes I carry.
Isolated corner,
Not one clue or answer,
Yet you dare say you care,
In bleakest hemisphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.

No prismatic rainbow…
Golden petals in sight,
Amidst the flight of night,
Journey in black and white.
Palpitations and sweat,
Alter ego a threat,
Breath of air a nightmare,
Solitude and regret.
Engulfed in morbid fear,
My flesh I cannot wear,
Yet you dare say you care,
In dreary atmosphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.

(c) Monica St Hillaire.

BROKEN BALLAD

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Listen carefully,

You’ll hear the somber song,

In my sadness.

That piercing falsetto,

Shatters the mirrored doorway.

Tears stream down,

Rigid and swift.

An enigmatic flow,

Unaware of their fate…

They were in firm solidarity,

With my heartbreak.

Synchronization so metrical;

Feeling like a puppet on a string.

These masterminds,

Of this dreary hole,

I now dwell in…

As I sit here,

Doleful and dejected,

The rhythmic chant,

Consumes inside of me.

Glum quivers,

Unending…

(c) Monica St Hillaire. 2021.

GENTLE WOMAN

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

She danced in the moonlight,
Hoping daylight never came.
Transition in effect;
The wounds remain the same.
Though in its vivid light,
She suppressed cutting wounds.
Sadness erased from thoughts,
Battled shame with her might.
Abyss is not her home,
Cannot fall forever.
Life is her mystery -
A maze she'd rather roam.
Glaring light fill this place!
Dawn will surely efface...
She danced in the moonlight,
Hoping daylight never came.



(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2019