Dark Lords
I walk and my eyes uplift
I cannot see ground;
my footsteps seem
gravity-defying.
Concourse with my
Inner Soul
has transmogrified;
a corner catchment
of random bliss
side-swiping me suddenly.
Frightened I was sure
I was ill.
How came it to be
that my unhappiness
took leave
stranding me
on some Less Sorrowful Shore;
what then can be my stance
in this silly putty happy world?
I've been formed by Years of Ire
Verbal Sword Play
Severed Hearts
Love Lost
Deads and Dying.
I had comfort in all these-
they became my identity
black was my celebratory color
dank dark my mead
black eye-shadowed
comforted me.
I dragged behind me
Sorrowful Souls
the Iron Faced
and Solace Deprived.
So new the threat
so swift to me
in a twit
I had turned happy go lucky;
astoundingly.
How can it be
that dark
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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