The Journey of the Dismantled Dove

I wrote this today, 4/2/2015, in honor of the 2nd day of National Poetry Month

Serenity wobbling to oblivion, vanishing,
Always forgotten and never found,
The tears of dreams conceiving a lament, a shattering sound,
Perceptibly, quietly, and tempestously flinging the dove aground.
Precious blighted moments
Now shrouded within a veil of dubious authenticity.
The barbed, craggily piercing trophies, the castaways of a bygone era,
Murmuring, bewildered, muted vociferous pleas,
Mourn the passing of a certitude once teeming with acumen.
A last breath gives birth to diverging paths of reality,
Riddled with a callous dark reflective vantage of the past.
An oppressively opaque blanket of weaved secrecy,
Dismembers the body of truth with the potency of a stygian secret,
Clipping the wings of freeing flight dismantling life into death.

Author's Note

Please give me some glow points (what I did well) and some grow points (what I can improve upon.) Thank you!