Thursday, April 23, 2009

UNTITLED


Telling lies,
not alibis;
slipping into submission.

Agonize,
and terrorize:
worsen the condition.

Dead inside,
empty eyed;
destroyed by disarray.

A bona fide,
pushed aside,
Psyche gone astray.

All bite, no bark; warnings are a waste.
Every night, in the dark; mornings are debased.


Arrows shot into a hardened heart
can still damage, scathe, and scrape;
just because it’s been turned to stone,
doesn’t mean the heart can escape.

1 Comments, Questions, and Concerns:

Marcela GarcĂ­a Pulido said...

i have a hard time with poetry.

i get bored reading them or just don't want to bother.

but yours, yours i always seem to enjoy reading.

yours always have a good rhythm and story.