What will become of me?
The indescribable and hiding, soft footed
Fool of a shop front mannequin?
Paint me.
The clown in make up and the
Dark of a shadow following
The illusion
Of a more substantial being?
What will become of me?
Save me.
I am imprinted in the years
In a self destruct button, crying
Mass and the stoic stone of a mask
I carried.
Carry me, like a child, carry me.
Lie me down in an earth bed.
What will become of me?
Throw out the rope to me and watch
It fall right by me
And see I am afraid to grasp.
Clinging pale of demons breath
To try resurrect me.
Exorcise me
Tear the dark from my lungs.
What will become of me?
Breathe into me
And I will poison you.
Watch a different Midas touch
As everything falls to dust.
Hunt me.
The quarry fleeting into the night
With the eyes of something haunted.
Tallie Pascoe
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fleeing-what-will-become-of-me/
