Posted in Poetry


Curse not the man who screams at you,

And smites you with convulsing lips.

No lasting grudge let stain and hew

Your heart, that fragile peace equips.


For, only one whose dark inside

Has atrophied with time and pain,

Will fire spit, in rage confide,

As joy to share does not remain.


Featured image courtesy deviantart (a beautiful lie)


A reluctant cynic with a morbid fascination for skulls and Schopenhauer's philosophy. Sugar addict. Poetry lover.

2 thoughts on “Reflection

    1. Thank you. My poetry may seem difficult to follow as I mostly write traditional verse which includes a lot of syntax convolution and enjambment, but I’ll keep your feedback in mind.


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