A Sponge Soaked In Sorrow

A SPONGE SOAKED IN SORROW Sorrowful is his soul On the whole Black is his heart An organism which should have ended at the start he weeps at everything he sees and hears Feeling as if he’s falling off a cliff formed of fears every time a child is slain like a sacrificial lamb Those are the souls he wants the universe to damn It’s difficult for a man made of silence and sweat When he kicks a habit and his sheets are once again wet Beating the street while battling the heat of an arid August day His soul is satin and he‘s moved by every death is what people say mornings mean more misery and miserly sympathy for this man of whom they speak His dreams are dreary and his nightmare’s make every second seem bleak I know this man as well as I know I’m laying in bed Because that man is me so please just put a bullet in my head © 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~