Disillusioned by the words of hate,
Disatisfied with present fate,
Hope crouches in the corner there,
Muttering rebellion at despair.
Before the heart is torn to shreds,
Between the words alive and dead,
It must be bruised and brought to shame,
And eagerly accept the blame.
Life it seems is forcing me,
To choose between breath and liberty,
My transient soul would have me trade,
True love for oaths that I have made.
It beacons me to enter in,
And forms a soul for mine akin,
And bleeds and sheds it's tears as bait,
Treasonous wretch, it lies in wait.
The door has closed, distrust returns,
The heart that kills, is that which spurns-
the tender beats of a trusting heart,
And builds of words a wall to part.
I make an adder's nest my home,
And dream that I am not alone.
I pray that time would not stand still,
But into future pain would spill.
Grant me leave from this life's scars,
The treachery that wounds and mars,
God if indeed Your love is true,
Call me swiftly home to You.
Copyright © Yvonne Evanoff | Year Posted 2011