Tell me, little one.
How do you see the world?
As your mind paints the picture of its face,
You'll find it ever-changing throughout your days.
I.
For me, it's been decades since that face ever gave a genuine smile,
When the core of it all was youth and fun,
When all darkness was light.
When all wounds are healed with a mother's kiss,
When days are spent playing on perfect bliss.
When all spicy words are powerless,
And all good ones overflowing with sweetness.
Those were the days when we thought our eyes were wide open,
Only to see we're blindfolded in all those moments.
II.
Like a snake, the face sheds its skin,
Revealing a hideous persona underneath.
The face that was once a symbol of innocence
Now gradually becomes a terrifying adversary.
The new face of the world
Is the face of a demon.
It taunts you,
Plays with you,
Makes you feel strong for a moment,
Only to topple you down a second later.
There are times when the face smiles again like it used to,
But now you begin to doubt its genuiness.
You will learn not to trust its smiling face,
As it only meant suffering and pain afterwards.
Regardless, we still learn to survive.
We try to forget the weight of the problems,
And instead try to focus on the little crumbs of happiness lying around somewhere.
The demonic face of the world rages like tidal waves,
At first, they come at you ruthless.
After one wave has struck, another one comes and strikes instantly,
Giving you no chance to breathe.
But as time passes by,
The calm between the waves gets longer and longer,
Until finally, you will realize
That the true face of the world
Was the the first face all along.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of A Count
PoetryThis book is not suitable for audiences with zero percent sense of imagination and a mental age of two and below. I'm not really a great poet, just a guy who knows how to hold the pen and write the twenty six letters of the alphabet. But I like thin...
