Torn Strings
An opened valve of tears
lusting a smoldering lament,
vocals vanish from the ears,
fermenting an anger of consent.
With powerless loss of reason,
the self inflicted curse of hope,
a vile taste of treason,
dreams shattered in myope.
Striding through a darkened tunnel
the light flickers less bright.
Squashed down through on life's funnel,
disappearing out of sight,
caught out by the blistering pace of romantic plight!
Copyright © Gerald Webb | Year Posted 2011
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