The Essence of Hurt
A Christmas tree is but a fake soon revealed,
for, under the tinsel, a dead tree's concealed.
If a man sheds his thorns, is he still a rose,
must he sacrifice pride to let old wounds close?
Anger rebuffs efforts to amend the past,
a powder keg of emotions set to blast.
The core of my heart was shattered by deceit,
and betrayal resonates within its beat.
Deprived of your touch and the light of your soul,
leaves an emptiness; that nothing can console.
For hope withers on the vine when the lies start,
and then, like a broken heart, trust falls apart.
Struggling to deal with the agony and strain,
my heart lies vanquished, abandoned to its pain.
And I'm the essence of hurt, drowning in tears,
floundering in an ocean of daunting fears.
(Rhyme)
5/24/2017
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment