Forever spoken within a pale lie,
it never grows it weeps, and it dies.
Suckled tight to a warm wet breast,
cowered down within this dark nest.
I feel the heat, the pain deep within.
Her heart it does soar, the fear and the sin.
Ugly it does become not but shame,
the glass we walk does make us but lame.
Within a rhyme the truth it does scour,
the fragile days, the ill waking hours.
Leaving naught but a rusty grey corpse,
a silken web, rotten with remorse.
Tossed aside I fall to my knees,
the man that I was, the man I will be.
The fragile eggshells turn to but dust,
this mire trail I no longer will trust.
So fail I do as the wasps pick at my feet,
The sores they do open, the sores do they weep.
A failure I become before this sick world,
all I have become, is a puppet to twirl.
A contest entry
- Want Criticizim? Take A Look by HereComesTheSun.
700 points, ended July 28, 70 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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P: you showed the beauty of rhyme to me in this piece
fav: Leaving naught but a rusty grey corpse,
a silken web, rotten with remorse.
just really well penned shows some amazing imagery and symbolism as well as the meaning of this poem
N: hard to read on background
thanks for entering -
I like it... Just makes sad though.
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excellently penned! Keep writing!
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