black anger
that demands release
in scarlet tears
must yet be appeased
by salt, torn
from a raging heart,
and half-fed,
retreat behind,
be held captive by,
a solemn countenance.
how easily are they fooled,
who wish so to be,
till even those who
saw it in the making
doubt its veracity,
and all the fragile bridge
comes tumbling down
at a single wrong touch
and you and i drift,
again, inexorably apart.
4 comments:
Very passionate.
Now dont laugh, but somehow this poem reminds me of The Wife's Lament.
:)
definitely shan't laugh. i'm terrified and gratified, all at once.
Yes, I meant that as a compliment, knowing you would take it as one. Now most others would probably acknowledge it as an insult.
heh.
;) it's a brilliant poem, i think. unsure how this matches up to it in any way, but compliments are always appreciated.
Post a Comment