Quicksand

Treading dangerously upon watery sand—
with deceptive tongue, walking hand-in-hand.

Glazed over eyes often failing to see—
a sudden decrease in stability.

WORDS. . .

A mere mix of water and clay—
stifling more with each passing day.

Sharp grains of sand grinding at you—
Its cold dense grip, you cannot eschew.

Losing your ground as the guile grows thicker—
yielding to fate, you begin to sink quicker.

Slipping deeper in desperate despair—
gagged by your lies and pleading for air.

Struggle ensues in this coarse pool of death—
soon your betrayal shall breathe its last breath.

Beguiling words, cryptic deception—
led to your sinking in faulty perception.

Slow sinking ships, thwarted schemes—
swallowed by death beneath sandy streams.

Plead now or hold your own peace.
Beseech those offended for tender release.

Reach out for mercy’s hand—

OR. . .

Thrash in the turmoil
of self-imposed quicksand.

~ Published in Mississippi Crow Magazine November 2008 ~

Tags: allegory, deception, hypocrites, liars, metaphors, poems, poetry, quicksand

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