The Betrayer
Running my fingers through my hair
Trying to believe in what I cannot see
Running my fingers through the lair
Trying to resonate somekind of feeling
A feeling of importance; somekind of relevance
Stepping over the precipice called innocence
Debauchery lingers, penetrating though my layers
Falling into self
Reviling in my shame
Call my name
And find me hand in hand
One and the same
Picking myself apart
Creating somekind of beauty, somekind of art
Only to be torn apart and left to rot.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
