Addiction (Rising From Relapse) (Hero Contest)

Addiction (Rising From Relapse) (Hero Contest)

You will not

pin me down,

like the victorious

wrestler at mat.

Control is ever

vital in the battle

between us.

It is mine now to

gain.

I've heard calls of

success in your

brought about struggles

and pain.

Unanswered they went

but no longer am I committed,

to the ignore button attached

to this wrongdoing.

Consume me not with

overdose,

but the spirit of endurance.

Then take attention as I overcome

fleshly lust,

without your assurance.
 

One More Read

Here I grant

a poet's plea.

Give these words,

just one more read.

For there is power

within my lines.

An inner voice,

begging of what's

not mine.

Pierce your eyes

to the printed ink.

Find that best seller

you won't put down.

Become one with

abundant imagery,

full of delighted delivery.

Seek an admired jewel,

i've lost to a greedy robber.

Search for that crushed

child,

who found comfort in darkness.

Suprised you'll be

when these

poems,

act like memories of

your own.

As if strangers

invaded the mind,

writing of what they find.

Transform into the page

turner,

you came to be.

Hoarding

poetic lines,

that'll stack

by the stanza.

When you even think

of giving a quick...

Unblemished

"Unblemished"

She glanced my way,
grew tiresome of being
a loner in the daydreams.

Our faces met,
the moment
perfect like sun rays
upon quiet streams.
Didn't have to do much
exploring based on
curiosity of mine.
To realize that,
she's why I'd rather
be deaf than blind.

Her hairline flowed
smoothly,
crashing, and tickling
into hooked shaped ear
lobes.
I lost count of her
strands of hair strips,
that dangled down
hollowed cheekbones
like waterfalls over hidden
stone.
Quickly I vanished into
hypnotic pupils,
pulling attention in
deeper.

Still suprised of
my escape,
yet oddly disappointed.
She is an advertisement
appointed,
for easily appealed viewers.
There's no fortune needed
to observe her natural art,
fortunately.
...

Believing

When my faith for us

detached from

every motive you

ingrained,

like seeds to

fine soil.

I somehow found

a way to stunt

the growth,

no one saw coming.

A non-believer I became

after praying so

efficently that my

consciousness,

lead my passion

for you to the grave.

This belief concluded

that we couldn't be

saved.

However I craved,

for a repentance that

would direct me to

the resonance of

prayers,

that I felt went

unheard as a

mime's vocal tones.

I'm prone to

accept your

existence,

that refused

to diminish

from these

aesthetic

pieces.

Because

believing in you,

fuels euphoria

that releases.