Little King of Sorrows
So The Story Go
My empty heart shall fill this void,
now blank-white canvas over-joyed.
Happy thoughts are not for me,
All the same, I set them free.
From deep within the pain I grip,
Replanted here by fingertip.
Release thy smile and let it shine,
And spread the warmth of love divine.
Evaporate my liquid fear,
Leave something more substantial here.
Taste of honey, of which I lack,
feed these souls, a sweetened snack.
Liquorish trees, of which I walk,
Know the difference, of how I talk.
Surrounded not by candy birds,
that rain upon us cookied turds.
Vultures soar my sky aloof,
Their stool distilled to 80 proof.
Disheveled grin escapes from me,
as I search for words I'll never be,
But still I try, to change my view,
like the wintergreen freshness, of morning dew.
Carmel bark and spearmint leave,
this candy-land vision I don't achieve,
Root beer barrel, that hold my pains,
Natural Ice will freeze my veins.
Refreshments of adult selection,
Is which I choose for my reflection.
Once again, my own words true,
no matter what I say or do.
Even though my drinks are less,
I miss the care-free drunkeness.
The kind that dared me not to sleep,
but never kept me up to weep.
One moment here, the next a sigh,
a dreaming star, in Heavens sky.
A horse of color, I just won't be,
My wardrobe black for all to see,
Call it choice, call it fate,
I can trace it to the date.
Someday my life will maybe change,
as I slowly start to rearrange.
My poem's you don't have to read,
It's serves for me a inner need,
If scared of dark, please stay away,
I know I've slowly gone astray.
This fight I can't explain to you,
Or what it takes to make it through.
I search of ghosts in smoke filled halls,
and speak to shadows on my walls.
I know the source I hide with-in,
and the shroud of time is getting thin.
I've come too far, to lay back down,
to bask in glory, of my own frown.
But healing is a lengthy fight,
still found no way to sleep at night.
I say my prayers and lie awake,
praying for my soul at stake.
For far too long been left to rot,
For years I gave this all I got.
One day a time, it surely goes,
But the pain inside, God only knows.
Slow and steady, will win the race,
No longer tracking speed of pace.
No longer tracking space of time.
No longer tracking beat of rhyme.
So another poem gone to waste.
As I wrote these words in sickened haste.
Or so it seems, I just don't know,
But that's the way, the story go.
© 2013 L.K.Sorrows
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (So The Story Go by Little King of Sorrows )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda