| |
Petals of Deceit
Petals of deceit pressed dead between hand written pages
Rescued from the final insult, among crumpled documents and this mornings half eaten Danish
From a friend once trusted but never twice
Faded reminders of the knife twisted in blatant cruelty and greed
Conscience or remorse, mere words scattered about these pages
Acrid scent of decay, fragrance of honor brittle and crumbling
A façade of false beliefs, in ruins, this delusional construct of insanity laid bare
The insane leading the fallen, battling over scraps of discarded pastry and yesterdays friends.
Stoic
|