Poetry

Word of the Day – Connive

I have been conniving against myself
Walking a winding path to my own doom
I take razors to my wrists just to watch myself bleed
Do nothing to stop it then cry at the loss of my essence
I see my own apocalypse in the distance like an emerald city lit ablaze
Yet, I keep skipping towards it
On my feet are ruby red slippers in which I see no beauty or value
Nor do I see my own
I trudge forward, making friends with lions and tigers and bears
Oh my!
I’ve entered the Mirkwood forest and I walk sideways and backwards so I can stay lost
I capitalize on this self-inflicted sabatoge and wallow in my own pain looking for pity
I’m too afraid to believe that I’m worthy of anything else
But, somewhere, someone I cannot see is waiting for me
I could find him and myself if I would get out of my own way
I turn my back on the emerald city
Goodbye yellow brick road

3 thoughts on “Word of the Day – Connive”

  1. Okay, ow? Ow as in – the revelation of Oz being fake, the Emerald City being painted with cyanide-laced Victorian paint and the murk seeped in between the bricks of not the road but the locked room in which you go razor-to-wrist is smothering in its darkness. Although I would normally like that, I don’t like the thought of you being in that place, ’cause I’ve been there.

    But, you conspiring against yourself in your conniving ways (hah) is still not without a measure of hope: because you know the way out of Mirkwood… you are just not following it. So at the end, maybe the yellow brick road isn’t where your path lies. Just maybe.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Blame the dictionary! It gives me these words that inevitably lead to dark poems. But yes, the end of the poem is meant to imply that I need to get off the yellow brick road. It’s not the correct path for me.

      Liked by 1 person

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