Tortured
People need something to believe-
Something to bleed-
Thoughts only thick as flesh-
Visions of the future must mesh-
With all want and will-
The pursuit of personal thrill-
Eliminate possibilities of grief-
Since this thing called time’s a thief-
I must try to be brief-
Within myself I feel the drive-
Externally I have lives to revive-
And where I rest my head in the end-
Is hopefully in the heart of each friend-
I’ll meet-
From every street-
I’ll pass-
On the road to destiny-
See the stars above feeling no terror-
Learned from a history of error-
I’ll serve up my creative juice-
There is no excuse-
Not to consume-
Around the room-
Social minds can join-
Ideas like flipping coins-
It sure is a rush-
But hush-
Forbidden is assembling in peace-
No inspirations exchanged apiece-
Could be positive-
Though potentially causative-
Goodwill for the earth-
Should be measure for each worth-
Maybe then all will move forward-
Rather than rely on being tortured.
Copyright © Melissa Ross | Year Posted 2011
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