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"Reality In Poetic Prose"
#IAmLiamOG
Press play, then read the poem.
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verb 3: to arise from the combination of distinct elements
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How deep this sadness goes.
No one really knows.
How even now... this abyss grows.
With every single step.
The gravity of the situation,
Keeps me in check.
"Smile," they say.
"what could be so wrong?"
Sorry, I've more demons to slaughter today.
Been at this so long,
they know my name.
Every single day, the same.
Tauntingly they call for a game.
"Liam" they say...
"won't you come out to play?"
This window to my soul is foggy.
This sword so heavy...
I'm becoming groggy.
Is this my final swing?
This I doubt.
This is me... crying out.
Give to me your pain.
Bring to me your anger.
It's your demons who'll be in danger.
Monsters swirling all around.
"Tis but a flesh wound."
I may be on the ground.
My blood on their faces.
But I've got them where I want them.
They know where their place is.
Sending them back to hell.
Tell them I'll be home soon.
Today I'm collecting corpses.
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