words, the play of words
have so much power, only if one lets those.
to give you credit, I handed it over on a platter
for you to feed on, seduced by what would be.
it is not a question that I need to ask you
whether or not I will make you immortal-
blame, who do I blame other than myself
for being so blind with open eyes.
I marched forward, not looking back
still running in a dead heat
which sapped my strength, pulling me down.
with my own hands, I noosed the double knot
of a tie around my bare neck, ending up only half dead
why is that pictures got blurred, where non existed?
meaning of mirage was never as clear as now-
shaking smoky fire out of my way, with new vision,
into a daybreak that's wondrously clear, I rise
absolving myself. redemption is not a mere word any longer.
This is offered for Totally optional prompts (smoke and mirrors) as well as patchwork poetry. Lines have have taken from poetry by Margaret Atwood, Keith Douglas, Carol Ann Duffy and Maya Angelou in that order, and patched into it.