Desecration
It was thinking
you could erase me,
that made you fall
into your first mistake
I am a mother of poems
I am the sister to word,
the daughter of a great
I am an untold story
without a name
all calls absorb silence,
but a slip of thought
will redeem all
you think me simple
something to toy with,
when other distractions
pale into insignificance
a sleeping dragon
rests in the cave
of my heart, wisps
of smoke consume me
like a rain of fire
my words will spill,
to burn your eyes
and all they mirror
Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2011
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