Stare and Scary

Some days feel like tragedy,
While some days feel nuts.
Complacency feels pressure like strain,
As sometimes I fight with horror and pain
I struggle through clouds for my sun
Handsome weights in the voice of gone.
I feel terrible one time
More time to be self pitied
When tears roll with no tissues
When curves on my face tells anger.
The story of the creator,
The potter's mistakes.
Missed takes on my account
Wish plates served on tables
With no skies for shooting stars.
I've found the unknown spoiler
The knot that loosen her ties.
And it is known to be in the same hands
Moulding the art of clay
The art I can relate
Pure pottery, pure poetry
Her eyes in the same vain of old
Squared to yield her seraphic voice.
Deep in the caves of my thoughts.
In the thunderstorm of my mind
The cloudy saddle in the winds of behind.
Let us begin the rains,
Let us pour our names
In the silent puddle of salvation,
Awaiting the rinsing and cleansing.
As quiet queer her folly
In thorns of the ivy.
I too will pass this
This hole in cone
This too shall be passed
And my flag flown past half mast.