why don't we know
the worst of the best people rule us,
when the speech makers and kings
crumble; such tiny birds in worldly palms
held up by the deity of odette,
persephone and sung to by helen,
for all the beauty they should possess
we find the sadness looms
created by the fraudulent,
encountered by the weakest hearts
and managed by tyrants
of smaller stature
can't we have a simple torture
where hands held are meant to be,
nothing wrung from or asked for
and the least dictatorial lesson learned
is fear won't be the heart of love
Ya think?
Comments
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I like! A great poem, full of imagery and easy flow, well formatted. Great stuff!
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Thank you so much!
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