The Rebel
Dank, cold, unperturbed indifference,
Untouchable, yet touching all,
Unresolved in meaning,
Still creating each and every fall,
Every whim and leaning.
Touché pas! A cry of weary hate,
And will not accept a helping hand,
‘Till death! Brazen adverse in face of fate,
And alone in piteous stand…
Lone wolf we cry, thy fate is nigh,
Yet stands he still resisting,
That love should die, that only tie,
In error still persisting…
Copyright © Joseph Hartley | Year Posted 2013
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