Guest Poet: Paul O’Donnell

It doesn’t matter

Cynical promises made
with a look that dehydrates fruit
offering nothing more than
the shroud of magic
protecting you from all evil
so you can get to that final place
of simple and quiet pleasure

Blinded from all reality
now the scraggy face of the nihilist
frozen eyes inside the hoodie head bent
looking for the promised soft-lit path
worn down by stained, undelivered promises
finds the overlord was just having a bit of fun
when he compassed his ends by deception
with no-one else’s end in sight

In that moment you’ve been hoping for
you realise the overlord won’t save you
when you realise you
have to do it all yourself
it is the day you realise you can
relax and enjoy the ride
it doesn’t matter which way you go


Arts & Culture

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