H A D E S . . .

Her existence, austere, is made known to her not when she breathes but upon bleeding,
A bleeding caused by deep cuts inflicted insensitively by her beloved,
Like still waters this pain is deep in her veins for it is stuck in her thoughts to darken her mind,
From dusk till dawn hatred fuels her blood as she feels absent from the world; a ghost,
After recurrent darkness, days turning to nights streets of gold lose value as her heart
Finds peace and solace in the beauty portrayed by aisles of graveyards,
To her, instructions to a life of roses is written in codes on scrolls with cryptic entries,
Precarious, she would love some room to breathe yet that is exposure to more toxicity.
She seems to be a snake swallowing its tail, how does that end?
A product of failed love on a bed of hate and actions of spite is what she feels she is,
Daily she hears words that damage and slaughter and this breaks down her brains
To psychological chemicals proving too toxic for any sense to sink within her,
Once, she felt like she won’t survive the changes made by the earth but the underworld
Wasn’t ready for her, she remains alive but dances offbeat to the rhythm of life,
The pill she is on is a tough one to swallow but in almost broken steps,
Her fragile feet march on as she is at the verge of withdrawing her faith from up above.
Candles are lit in prayers for her pain to fade but these demons don’t seem to care,
Maybe a whisper to her, when deep within a clean spirit clings on then
Even upon death with graves being dug beyond six feet deep into the earth’s crust,
Not an inch closer to hell will your soul be fed, yes, pain presents itself-
Not as a problem to be solved but a stage of test that has to be endured,
In the end she will trip the light fantastic, sure that your sweat is not  blood
But it sure is more than water but for now rest the soles of your shoes, be still
For in pain, when you move you place yourself in a position too strenuous for your threshold.
(c)Anduvate Ray Solomon 2014

16 thoughts on “H A D E S . . .

  1. Wow. This nearly brought me to tears. The imagery of someone so damaged that came tl my mind was haunting and saddening. You did a wonderful job writing this. Amazing. I’m stunned


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