2 of 55

Write now Article Tools

Treading safely upon weakened sand,
And deceptive tongues go hand in hand.

Glazed over eyes, often failing to see,
Your sudden decrease in stability.

Words, a mere mix of salt-water clay,
Stifling more with each passing day.

Fine grains of sand daily grinding at you,
The cold dense grip you cannot eschew.

Losing ground as this guile grows thicker,
Yielding to fate, you begin to sink quicker.

Slipping away, into desperate despair,
Gagged by your lies and pleading for air.

Struggle ensues, in this coarse pool of death,
Soon betrayal shall breathe its last breath.

Beguiling words of cryptic deception,
Has led to sinking in faulty perception.

Slow sinking ships and sailing dreams,
Are rendered shadows in dappled beams.

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

Reach out for mercy's hand, while you still can,
Or thrash in the turmoil of self-imposed quicksand

Learn more about this author, Crystal Dawn.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Quicksand?
We want to hear your view. Write now!