Soul | A poetry on ethical living
By the broken hedge, sat my soul,
Dreaming of the life, lived not full;
Letting myself burn under the sun,
For I missed all the fun;
Being a slave to the past,
Eating me, furious and fast.
My tongue never tasted sweetness;
For my heart is loveless.
There will never be any volunteers;
To console my eyes that tears,
To share the wound of shear,
Or to shadow my fear.
Die I must, alone;
Having nothing of my own.
Joy?
Oh! Boy.
Just pain,
And vain.
Let the skies open
By the count of ten;
Engulf then,
Like the cap of a pen,
This awaiting hen.
Comments