A piece of rotten leather.
It is a thin rope.
Cut into three, I braid it together,
To avoid sad profanation of hope.
Look away, far deceived,
The pain my mind cannot hold
Must by the heart be received,
The pain which cannot be told.
Subtle confusion creeps up
To the shore of my tempest-infested brain
Ignorant as I sip my cup,
One taste and all that I know is pain.
Pain, anguish for the loss of my roots.
A flower that is pick'ed
As a centerpiece suits,
But beauty fades, and good becomes wicked.
What seemed at first to be
A grand declaration of love's power,
Now lets its lovely petals free.
Brown, wilted petals of love's flower.
Look away, far deceived,
The pain my mind cannot hold
Must by the heart be received,
The pain which cannot be told.
And here, still I distract.
Here, this moment, this time,
I betray my heart and happy act
By writing of pain with my rhyme. |
Submission Name: Distraction
