Shadow Poetry

Lamp Light

when we take to the streets

no one will know our names

but they will chant our cause

and the lights will never go out


the lamps are burning

off our dead weight

the oil long gone

siphoned by the empty promises

doomed to be repeated

when all the lights go out


is it naive to believe

in happily ever after?

everyone believes

in the end


is it naive to believe

we are here for a purpose?

leaving dead skin cells

as my trail

so you can find me

when i’m lost

when i’m stuck

or is it all just void?

no point at all

i think not


when i wake

in the dead of night

searching for the reasons

i cannot find

remind me


hold me

until the gaping abyss

can no longer see me


take the truth

massage it into my skin

so i can remember

what we are fighting for


By Daphne Shadows

Micro Stories

behind the curtain

they weren’t really listening but they saw the truth anyway. it looked, for all its effort, like a lie. came wrapped up in a story they didn’t understand. but they only stuck to the surface, wanting a laugh, wanting a smile, wanting a fake face and a comfortable tale.

and so the truth slipped into the unknown, alone and lost and wondering why so many walked by, shrugging at its apparent sounds of struggle and pleas for help.

but then you happened upon us.

one silly smile and the world was alight with sun globes and sparkles and all those little pieces of confetti that were thrown away at the end of the parties. gathered up and stuffed in our pillows, because you happened upon us.

 

it’s not just that you sauntered on by. it’s that you stopped.

in the stopping, you breathed in, like a dragon with a belly full of fire, waiting to soak in every moment, notice every tiny detail in a world impermanent and ever-changing. a momentous shift in the state of things, nothing more than a spec of a second to you, the gem at the corner of your eyes.

a blink, and what’s what has changed for you.

yet you paused, a galaxy worth’s of memory, and you saw us. smiled, and reached a scaly hand down, down, down into the depths of what most ignored. their sideways glances bringing hurried steps quicker and quicker, further and further away. wouldn’t want to have to deal with it. wouldn’t want to have to change or help or stoop down to lend a hand.

but you dipped your claws into the muck and the hidden, pulling the truth from behind the curtain, and held us in your hands like the most precious of treasures.

 

we realized then. the truth isn’t what’s written or noticed. we didn’t need them to see in order to be. the truth is the truth, no matter the trappings. and you showed us the cost of accepting is brilliancy untold.

 

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