Black Gold

Darkness keeps demanding my name,
Pulling me into the game.
Never happy with sane,
My blanket of comfort remains untamed.
Layers of guilt cover my shame,
Tears of wildness flow down my windowpane;
Pores on my cheeks soak up the rain.
Why are we given beauty and grace
If what is buried beneath is a haunting disgrace?
Try and lay to rest the demon that breathes cold air into my soul,
Burying it under layers of "black gold."
It rots for a while, till the stench calls my name.
Are you read--ready to finish the game?
I know your name.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem