gimme the gun

Gimme a gun, for I cannot attest to the deceit and lies of pouting lips pointed in the direction of a broken heart, the spirit  is refusing refuge for his warnings are simplex under the influence of drowning love, release the safety and let me to empty the magazine on the core of its wings rendering it paralysed perhaps it will walk as human or maybe disappear before our eyes as it always been said not strong enough to hold our dreams, let love protest please, though broken hearts can’t bear witness in court,  don’t let it fly again, fasten the chains of ungreatfullness to its simple attempts to escape our minds, I can’t bear to see it free
But let the drops of rain fall for their r hope ill stand in the middle of the storm just to feel their simple touch carassing my skin let the thunder be heard for its power is magical wrapped In silver lightning and maybe if its core is eva to be discovered I bet its the same place harnessing the pot of gold, but I refuse to discover it, for the mistery of the rainbow lies in its secrete
I tried to picture the color of wind, as it brushed against my skin in crimson fingertips yearning for a resting place, picking up petals in pollen wishes to be set free, while crackling windows and rattling doors choose not to understand the faith that dust has in the gushing air, for a moment it learns to be free and in the presence of falling it learns how to fly, Though the color has been made a secrete from me , I can’t help wonder if its color ever wonders abt me, or has it all been a dream from the tym of my birth if so then do not wake me I’d love to see the ending if it ends with me so high on the thrown of happiness that the wind feels like a mere breeze or will I be blown away tossing amongst the debris while picking up the best rose in the circulation to put on my hair, in awaiting the destination,
Maybe ill turn that same gun on my head and await the poping sound as the trigger releases the final bullet, splatting my brain on the floor in hope that all will be able to read my final thoughts, but I am tired of trying tired of wishing tired of wishing my love won’t let me down tired of bearing the risk to fall while learning to fly

About zodwa2c

poetry being the music that keeps my heart dancing, i find total peace and comfort in the 'word'
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One Response to gimme the gun

  1. Maeza says:

    “tired of bearing the risk to fall while learning to fly.”

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