A Poem by roobato

A poem of soul cleansing.

Here it comes again.
The malevolent pain, uninvited.
Emerging from a feeble mind,
With no purpose.
A mind's first impulse:
To run away, or cry, or both.

A restless heart must realize,
More speculation, rises anticipation.
More anticipation, rises apprehension.
More apprehension, slays logic, promotes turmoil.
But a restless heart must inquire,
What is the goal, of this mind's chaotic choir?

With enough time, at the right pace,
The demons will perish.
But why watch as the god of time butchers them.
For enough spirit and fire, will end their malicious desire.
Those are the ways that a mind is ought to adopt,
On the way to becoming bright-clad.

© 2015 roobato

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Added on September 5, 2015
Last Updated on September 5, 2015
Tags: soul, cleansing, brightclad, bright, clad, roobato, poem



Kingston Upon Thames, Surrey, United Kingdom

I'm a Polish guy living in England. My passion is Computer Science but I love writing as a hobby, so here I am. more..

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