Maybe, , ,
You won’t be coming
At all! ! !
Pain
Hurts the pain
Of my very lonely
Fate,
To have found you
Lost you,
My destiny, stalled
Not being told
That you were,
But an internet fold,
Not real,
A fabricated dream
Without which
I am now,
Nothing, at all!
To religions,That they areThe sole HoldersOf the Truth,But Nobody,Really is.The Truth,Was mentally murdered!When the first Liar,Giving a political speech,SmiledAnd clenched,His greedy fistFull of false promises,In exchange for Power.
A Tree and a Red Rose,Pillars of society,Communication grows,Prose sustains our culture,Poetry our pose,As Dreamers and Abductors,Of word, seduction growsAs feelings rightly flow.Prose can tell long stories,Of human interaction,While Poetry finds Love,The superior satisfaction.There is no competition,For the tools are quite the same,Both are born from same affliction,To purge the soul in vain,And the writer’s…
Yes, it is,But,Does this really answer?The Quiz….
How do your problems grow?With lies and bells,And cracked up shells,Brought by ‘Politicos’
Let’s hope, that that tooWon’t soon easily depart.
Night so black and lonely,Moon so lonely litBy a light somewhere in Heaven,Where Hope, may still exist.
