The Mourner
I mourn the worst sorrows.
The shifty deception of
gullible children and
senile elders.
The blindness to reality
injected into many unlucky
fetuses, the worlds of
wonder they are born into,
smiling and ready to
accept these evil lies.
Like the wise men and women
they were, they rejected
their own teachings and
trampled upon the covenants
of their fathers, replacing
them with the tyrannical
anarchy of natural man,
forever a beacon in the vacuum,
a warning to those who dare
dance at the edge of the forest,
and dip their feet in the water
of unclouded streams.
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.
