Glowing Hot Like Incense
If my head wasn't glowing hot
like jade dragon incense
I'd drink half that handle of Jack
And lament the endless repetition of history.
The calousness with which
Men go to their deaths
Loving others little,
but loving themselves so much.
This reality is the broken heart of the poet,
given eyes which won't shut
Given a mouth which can't be heard
and always that love
which can't be returned.
Copyright © Dean Marais | Year Posted 2015
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