A Rogue Design

Maybe adrift I can
swaddle in power
of love but in the
hours past it’s sour.

Upon this precipice,
a tale told of lost ill
concepts grip and I
follow grips of a pill.

The lows grasp me,
and I fell before too.
So finding this depth
for me is not new.

So I kick up dirt I
tell the fates forever
to take this cup of
hate make as feather.

For I will call beast
what my beast draws
as my mind bends I
inside emotion claw.

Rogue I’ll become,
in a hate filled nation
where the weak are
left aching sensation.

Maybe adrift alone,
the beast will rise up
to draw the cup and
tell the pain enough!

Maybe I alone can
swaddle pain of mine
in the form not yours
but rather my design.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. Jared, I’m trying to find the right words… your words are powerful. That second last stanza has so much fight in it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This one is from an intense place.

      Like

      1. Yes, you articulated it well. I feel the intensity.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Sometimes I find anger more useful than despair. But it doesn’t take away from the fact there is still a hurt there.

          Liked by 1 person

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