Masks of Melancholy, Poetry by Ruth Bowley

Genre: Dark, Life, Rhyme

Masks of Melancholy by Ruth Bowley

Tell me darkness, where have your been?
The woods have stalked me.
The pavement has ridden my soul.
And, my city streets have turned cold.

Do not deny me…for that in which I have been destined.
Madness has offended you.
But it is my imaginary friend.

As the state has hand picked those upon my family tree,
yesterday was their’s to own.
Yet, this is my unhinged bedroom door…
This, this aching constant gardening of backdoor pondering…
Is a vacant ghost, immune to pathological monitoring.

At the hand of my father, an insanity plea.
At the feet of my mother, bloodied masks of melancholy.
The whole body of truth, the child…
Is a mad generation…set free.

 

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