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Prose Poetry Sorrow Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Sorrow

These Prose Poetry Sorrow poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Sorrow. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Sorrow poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry |


It's only the start now
...a road yet unknown
At times the whisper of other steps
...sometimes we walk alone

The best start of our lives
May at times cry in sorrow
But even on our deadliest days
The sun will shine tomorrow.

So we must do our best
Whatever time may bring
And look beyond the winter chill
To taste the breath of spring.

Into each life will come
A time to start anew
A new start for each heart
As lively as morning dew.

Though the responsibilities of life are great
And palms are bowed so low
The cyclone of time will leave behind
The beauty of a rainbow.

Time will never take away
Our chance to start anew
It's only the start now
So the beautiful dreams can still come true.

Copyright © Nikhil Chandwani | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |



Oh tear, oh tears
Why do you love me?
Can’t you divorce me? 
To give me a new beginning

Oh tears, oh tears
Why did you hide my handkerchief?
Can’t you wipe my face?
To make me smile again

Oh tears, oh tears
Why are you searching for me?
Can’t you leave me alone?
To move forward in life

Oh tears, oh tears
Why did you place a roadblock?
Can’t you leave the bridge?
To make me cross over

Oh tears, oh tears
Why did you put me in prison?
Can’t you allow me see the light
To fulfill my destiny

Copyright © Olivia Nimley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Holodomor Genocide

Holodomor Genocide 

Native of Ukraine and Soviet Union,
Known once for my independence,
Was pitied tobrutal artificial famine,
Exporting our grain,and leaving us to die,

Declared Kurkul under Stalin's policy,
Shipped to remote uninhabited Siberia,
Left to die of famine,
I was one of the millions,
Once the landlords now riches to rags,

Ghost of hunger that engulfed us all,
Even our innocent kids,
Many nights of darknessand severe ache,
More in heart than in the stomach,
Sun brought no shine,
Zero hope as deathdanced around,
As if wolves driven from the woods,
We ate our own bodies,

Every moment souls died a new death,
Horrible Helplessness, hue and cry around,
Walking amongst corpses,
 the good were first to die,
Cannibalism survived,
Could morals stay high ?

Survival a mystic miracle,
Made to deny any famine in public,
Robert conquest termed it 'Harvest of Sorrow'
Decree by Parliament proves it worst of genocide!

Written October 20th, 2014
On Holodomor In Ukraine in 1928
For contest' Genocide' by Cyndi Macmillan

Awarded 1st place

Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


(Apropos My Island Home..)

The sun slowly sunk
its exhausted reddish-orange
head into the waiting sea’s 
soothing sky blue bosom.

Excited white mane waves
splashed upon the waiting shore;
leaving the froth of their tears dissipating
in stilled sand soaked with haunting memories
of the disembarkation of stinking slave ships.

At the entrance gate of the sea wall,
a newly painted sign read: Guest Only.
Sighting my ebony epidermal hue,
red coral eyes of a bleeding conscience
painfully motioned me to move on:

Pity, you can’t be a guest
in your own yard. 

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Horror

Holed up in a corner, with a paper and pen,
under the moon light, crisp and bright,
tearing each page with words only ten,
with not many ideas nearby in sight.
Someone near me begins to nag,
who finds my writing bit of a slag,
thus we started talking about stuff,
with shadows mimicking our bodily huff.
The silent atmosphere and eerie darkness,
with her distant voice my heart raced,
no i didn't move from my place at all,
i thought she was sitting behind the other wall.
but soon she began to sob a little,
and shared her surreal experiences with me,
and i got so much indulged in her emotional pain,
that attention to anything else was in total vain.
The raindrops were then graced by the ground,
and the breeze left its impression with its sound,
I hushed inside the protective shade,
and waited for her to rise up instead,
Soon i realized her weird absence, 
as i thought she might be drenching in heavy rain,
and so i ran up to the boundary to ask,
"why you want to get wet in this time of ur pain?"
To my shock when i saw around,
a deceased corpse in the corner of mound,
barely recognizable a girl or boy,
was broken into pieces like a toy,
i ran and ran till my legs gave up,
with every nerve of my body shaking,
What was the shadow lurking there? 
and talking to me without a care,
a hand tap on my shoulder from behind,
with the same voiced giggle that spiked my hairline,
i needless to say what happened after that,
as i shivered and quivered, not to turn back.
The rest of it I dont remember as much,
but me and her are inseparable from then as such,
And we create a bigger circle with a new friend if near,
because the horror is always the image of your fear.

Copyright © Suraj Grover | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


Children of Oklahoma
Lost in your school
Swept away by a blind fury

Women of Oklahoma
Destroyed in your houses
Hit without escape by wild air

Men of Oklahoma
Unable to resist to monstrous nature
And to protect your families

People of Oklahoma
So far away but so close to our heart
We cry for you. We are close to you.
These are the only things we can do.

Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Bleeding Heart

My heart is bleeding and I don't know why

My heart is beating can't you hear it cry

My heart is broken can't you see it split

My heart is torn, torn to bits

My heart is vengeful and it has no regrets

My heart is soulless and it needs to be put to rest

My heart is useless cause you choose somebody else

My heart is frozen from everyone else

My heart is black

My heart is cold 

My heart can't let you go

My heart will wave goodbye 

My heart sank for the last time.....

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Lost One

Shivers my heart, by the sound of thunder,
In the world of darkness, alone the soul wander,
The twilight that has no string of light,
Seems its brightness is eaten by night,
Frightened, every particle, every life and the nature,
I find the world no longer has a  nomenclature,
All my directions lost, ways surrounded only by monsters and ghost,
Sails my ship in the deepest sea, with no sign of the coast,
The storm of life which is obstructing my route,
Rain! my only partner which makes me sooth,
When no one recognized drops of water from my eyes, 
You were the one who showed me where another world lies,
You changed my route, my life and brought back the hope of light,
Without you i would have never seen the sun so bright.                              
Waiting for my wrecked, sunk voyage to come ashore in the sun,
Sweet heart! move on, because I am now forever the lost one....

                                                                        -'Panchi' Panchal Hitesh D.

(for more please visit: www.reckonhp.blogspot.in)

Copyright © Hitesh Panchal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

''In the bitterness of sorrow there's an afterglow''

In the bitterness of sorrow there's an afterglow,
a shining aura of everlasting hope
and renewal that begins in rebirth.
To this light which transcends all darkness will I go,
and find a peace and a rest in its scope
and power which bring only abundant mirth.
There's a time for everything: a time for living;
a time for dying; a time for rejoicing; 
a time for crying; and a time for giving.
All we are and all we have are what we know,
we find meaning in one another and learn to cope
with the rest together here on this planet Earth.
With what we're given we can do no better and no worse--
this bitterness is both a blessing and a curse.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Why So Sad

Why So Sad?

Why do you look lonely, 
Bereft and so, so sad?
Has someone been quite nasty? 
Have you been really bad?

What lies beyond your haunted eyes,
Your melancholy stare?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Do you want to take me there?

Your doleful gaze cements your face,
Your shoulders hanging low.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Or would you prefer that I go?

I stand transfixed, absorbing your pain,
My breath is quick and light.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What causes your terrible plight?

What demons grasp your very soul?
Why do they steal your smile?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
This cruel and evil bile.

Can you see through your vacant gaze?
Do you know that I am here?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
And explain what monsters are near?

What has sucked the life from you?
Who have you become?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What nefarious deed has been done?

Copyright © Gaynor Morris | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Girl Across

Follow the line onto the bus
put in your money, grab a seat
earphones plugged in,
you let your eyes wander

resting your dance on the girl across of you
her head lowered, hair cascaded around her face
eyes closed, sometimes opened - completely void of emotion

The air around her was gloomy,
diffident, curled up into herself
she rested her head against the seat
hands occasionally rising to fiddle with her earphones.

You watch as a tear drop fall
and hide into strands of hair
Her head is again lowered
hands hastily wiping at her eyes.

The bus stops, and she gets of,
walking steadily and confidently-
a contrast to her slight hunch
and her eyes that were fixed on the ground.

Green light - she starts to move
and you watch as your body walked away

Copyright © Bre Varzena | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Come To Me

Come To Me
Come to me, he said again, to my dismay and tired chagrin, I fought to tarry a while longer... As I grew weak, he grew much stronger— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ 'Tis just a melding of simple fate, a subject not for one's debate; and lo', this wretched creature beckoned I fought him off just as he'd reckoned— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Am I not worthy of your best? Have you not put me to to the test? I dare not wish eternal sleep..." He glared at me, blank sockets"- deep— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ His skinless masque, devoid of feature with feral grin, this wretched creature reached yon, His slender hands of bone beseeching, calling,- "I'll take you home— ...Come to me." † ~*~ "Where is this you and I must go? To heaven's gates, or fires below, Should you divulge our destination?" Yet, he looked on;- gaunt presentation— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ May I offer you some wine? perhaps, if you just took some time, You'll see, I do not wish to go. He smiled at me, and said... “I know” “...Come to me.” † ~*~ Wretched creature, scourge of nations You wrest me to your lost damnation Can I not reason with you a bit- Please, sir! There, do come and sit— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Away, I cried, you demon's seed I bear no illness, I have no need to follow you, please I implore Away! Away," come back no more..." yet, He went on, much as before— "...Come to me." † ~*~ "I must stay here, my work's not done! The battle wages, the war's, undone, 'Tis my fight not worth completing?" He only watched, and kept repeating— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Oh Death, I know your wretched grin, I've seen its reflection on my own sin; Have I no time to make amends? This can not be where my life ends..." “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "I refuse," said I, "I will not go!" His voice grew darker, his countenance, lo' 'til I arose, from tufted bed, then I turned 'round, so softly said, “good-bye” ...And went~ .
Come To Me © Dean Kuch™ 2013 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Dean Kuch | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


eyes screaming, out of the smoke
out of the flame
out of the meat

all pretension
all aspiration
whither in the heat and flame

of seeing you walk away

of seeing the light turned on
roaches scuttling into the shadow
my mind, revealed as junk
as scum
as waste

in your absence

i stand (crouch) 
a stink in the clear air

a mistake

waiting for when i truly


as i failed you
as i did not rush to your side
offer my flesh my skin my heart

let you despair, let you die
helped you 


Copyright © Chris Fortin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


these skis look like hell,
old, scraped and gouged
but still they carry me
down this dark white trail

I've learned to keep myself upright
stumbles earlier almost forgotten
jerks who pulled or pushed me over,
fading/falling behind me

its cold now, snow fills the air
as I turn a corner, trees inches away
my poor and dirty clothes
still sufficient to keep me warm

and there she is, coming from
a different trail, forming up
to my left her eyes flickering at me
as mine lock on her

and she is just perfect. Easy
grace in opposition to my brute force
beautiful outfit, new skis
and a ready confident smile.

She yells, 'hi!' and I say 'sup?!'

as the trail turns, our speeds matched
we start turning, towards and away,
an impromptu dance, snow filling the air
the wind and hiss our only music

faster now as the trail drops away
and for one perfect moment, we
both catch air together
flying now

turning a tight corner, I look over
and find her .

Reflex viciously kicks out my skis
and I come to a snow-cloud stop.
eyes spinning everywhere, thinking
where are you?

A separate turning, a different trail?
She's nowhere I can see, nowhere I can
not with me anymore.

and my skis are old, my clothes dirty
but the person I was uphill,
is no longer here.
don't feel like skiing anymore.

Copyright © Chris Fortin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


Mostly I care about my heart 
But always crush my heart
I don’t want to know if there is anyone for me
Just sad for losing everything who was for me
All things going wrong out of that

Away! Away! Away! Away!

Copyright © Ibrahim Ghani | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Lady London

What trace of shadow, of language long and distempered in memorial
elegy, of abbeys as dismembered dolls lifted from their wrappings, of
hallowed grounds embedded with upturned forks while cigarette
embers chuckle soon sound aslumber in the crooks of pews, of 
fallow convictions interred between dour stones of the Thames,
retracted like a lover's kiss, of security in flightless ebon wings
while its mercurial eye peeps on Marriott's old ladies for 30 quid,
of refuse systems as landmarks to history, dear old old Form(al) 

no cat no cradle in its strings of moving metal carriages in the heavens
and hell,
Shakespeare Shakespeare! What a play you've made of her, our fair
Lady London

Copyright © Collin Lam | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


I kissed him on his cheeks
He did not wake
I kissed him on his lips
He did not wake
I kissed him on his forehead
He did not wake
I cried and cried and cried
I called the storm to keep me cool
I called the moon to show me light
I came out of the room hairs flying shroud
On to the street, deserted
It's raining hissing like vipers
Doors wide open
A distant sigh of blizzard.


Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Time Was Not On Our Side

Here I am thinking again about how our life should of been

But it's to late cause you are gone the love we shared can't go on

Wishing we had more time before the clocks started to wined

Time has stopped since you went away I really wished you could of stayed

You have moved on far away but my love for you has never changed

When I die someday soon we will meet again pass the moon

Far away in an unclouded sky we will never say goodbye

As I look back on our life I realize time was not on our side.....

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Hail, frozen Rain

Hail, frozen rain blew down from the west ,a biting shattering wind, changes puddles to ice,
Head down keeping the hail from stinging my face, it’s blown sideways so cold feeling sick,
Overcoat soaked right through to my skin, my teeth chatter loudly, shivering uncontrollably,
Down on my luck, no job no home, nobody, absolutely nothing just the clothes on my back.

So cold and bitter there is nowhere to go just walk about to try to generate some body heat,
Must have shelter some warmth, a peel of thunder rumbles far in the distance, what a day?
Through the falling hail, ahead there are some village shops, maybe a big canopy is down?
Maybe a doorway to stand in, or an alley, it is so cold and wet, would a shopkeeper mind?

Holes in my only pair of shoes, squelching wet bubbles, my feet frozen like never before,
Wind from lorries cars passing splashing, it's wet salt used to stop the road from freezing,
Thundering clouds get nearer the wind blows harder it looks like the worst has yet to come,
An old man, too old, scared to be wandering and sleeping rough, how to get out of this mess?

At the village now leaning against a shop’s side walls not enough shelter still facing the wind,
Agony, pain every movement the wet clothing touches my skin making everything so colder,
How do people like me survive this cold weather, but they do there are many armies of the road?
Just to be sitting by a roaring log fire clothes getting dry and having something, anything to eat.

As the thunder cracked overhead the hail turned to sleet and the sleet turned into hard frozen snow,
The wind got stronger, a real gale, again it pushed my soaking wet clothes harder against my body,
In better days things took for granted, a lovely house, that had a real value, never known before,
What drove me to drink, if there was a choice today a warm fire or a bottle, it would be a bottle?

Standing by the shop wall the wind got stronger, swirling in wind traps, coming from everywhere,
How to get through this storm, the cold, the wet have beaten me, just cannot take much more,
The man from the butcher shop walks over and tells me, rudely, to go away, but where is there to go?
Walking to a nearby park sitting on a seat, no shelter my eyes closed, warm tears ran down my face.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Dying young

My childhood friend, 
I can never forget.

A law of attraction,
Harmonious notions.

A mesmerising magnetic charm,
Aspiration in hearts.

Perpetual yearnings,
Enamoured in passion.

Holy grail of romantic relationship.

Met an accident,departed,
Trauma for me,beyond a cure.

I was shocked, life an end,
Life a beautiful lie,Death an arduous truth.

Conforming to the reality,
That love doesn't hurt, it alleviates suffering.

It's up to us to call on this immense,
Conciliating power!!

Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Deflected reflections

Deflected reflections

The funeral long passed but the pain as fresh as any wound
I read through neglected Mass cards congealed in my fear 
Relations, acquaintances, neighbours, hospice and friends 
The support groups of our selfish pain, (as we still live on). 
Words of comfort leap from the messages, some sterile,
But some cut to the bone and scrape the pain with precision.
I find myself crying alone, a man, but feeling like a lost infant,
No hand or wise word to guild me through. (I feel rudderless). 
Turbulence ahead again after I thought I had steered clear at last,
A shock to my system, but my heart always knew it never left me.
No festive decoration can fill the empty chairs at half full tables. 
Yet on such occasions I have found festive tales to raise the dead.
An Easter at Christmas so to speak, a family reunion of resurrections,
We remember and share tales we have heard many times before,
Enthralled by each narrator we sit in church silence, till we laugh. 
The glow of pride that reminds us, we had shared the lived memories
I see in each of the faces the smiles of those we lost along the way,
And make the promise to life, to make room for deflected reflections.

7th May 2016  

Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Crooked Sorrow

Canoe, golden brown inking rust colored depths, reflects the shape of my buried soul in rootless flight
Grassy banks envelop the waters and root the hoary trees that are the ghostly spectres bending
To reach for me with blackened toothed arms jaggedly carving silhouettes into the waning light
 Hush their soft murmuring, the rustle of their fading leaves the whispered voices of chis descending

Melodiously they speak of the angst simmering from where the sinful spirits are beckoning
The eclipsing moon’s tide that pulls the unhurried river meets the sullied shores of my reckoning 

The shadows of a godless eternity darkens the ancient seams of life and is slowly spreading

Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Journey Through the Valley

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
No evil will I fear;
For You, ABBA, 
     are here
     with me in this fire
where freedom may be sought
if these flames I will embrace
     with grace.

I feel the pain of grief;
     the desperation of control.
Despair clings tight
Choking delight;
But faith holds deep within my heart,
Its desire unyielding –
	the grip of control to depart,
        my fear to release,
        and find Your peace.

Yet, in the fire,
A thorn plunged deep within my heart-
A seed.

This seed of faith grows
As Love burns away the fear,
	Purged from my soul;
grief washed away by tears.

ABBA teaches me
In the valley of flames 
If my eyes will see

Will I be broken bread
       and poured out wine
       while abiding in the vine?

Yea, though I walk through the valley,
Life springs forth from death 
In the ashes;
If I yield control;
If these flames I will embrace
	with grace;
        to cleanse my soul 
        and let Love grow.

Copyright © Cathi Spooner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


Faith walks with Sorrow and Suffering.
It’s Light buffering 
their weight,
too heavy to abate.

Why journey with these companions so unpleasant?
What purpose to achieve?
What must I leave

Faith walks with Sorrow and Suffering
To transform
All that does not conform
     to Love.

Faith allows my choices to be made.
Will I trust?
Will my heart not fade?

Faith beckons my blind eye to see
Far beyond me,
If I will but trust
And hold tight to Love.
It’s magic to behold;
Worth more than gold.

Copyright © Cathi Spooner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |



In chilled onyx morning 
Silicon tears flowed
Down the plowed valleys
Of ebony skin.

Silicon tears
Leaking from sunken craters:
Red orbs bleeding residues of pain.

In the cold guttered streets
A father’s son lays dead:
A lifeless body riveted with lead.

Another father must now defend
The cardinal sin
Of a living son
Who fired the fatal gun.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Timmy's Angel

Gab rushed to the aid of a young child within seconds of a fatal accident.
The drunk driver was speeding through a residential area, and a little boy was directly in the path of a madman.  Gab, an angel,  had saved the day; the driver sped away; and there in scattered multiple pieces, the little boy’s bike lay on the roadway.

Michael, also an angel, decoded and destroyed a nuclear bomb, saving the entire continent.  Both angels were dispatched to assist people regardless of their bent in life.  It was just another day of manifested love toward mere mortals.  Yet again, help had arrived from Paradise.  How sad it must be sometimes for angels to interact with such loveless humans.

Feeling greatly relieved of what could have been, Michael smiled as he rejoiced with tears.  In spite of the pain, Michael and his fellow angels are always the same; never asking, “Will they ever change?”  Or “Do I have to?”

Gab exited the scene of the accident and waited for his next assignment.
The young child, Timmy by name, after being seen by the hospital doctor, was released and taken home by his parents.   All the way home, Timmy shared with his mom and dad what he saw and felt in the accident.  They did their best to be reassuring, but they thought that Timmy had been shaken up.

He was indicating abnormal experiences that happened to him during the accident. Timmy told his parents that just as the car was about to hit him, 
he felt something or someone lift him from the bike and sat him to the side of the street.  Gab had done things like that,  not once, twice, or even thrice.
Indeed, hundreds of times; and it was never routine, but personal, and always a source of pure joy.                                                                                

As Gab, Michael, and other angels are dispatched to Planet Earth, they often notice a huge area to which they are forbitten to go.  They have been told that it is a reserved place designed for ‘the evil one and his evil angels’.  I can only imagine the sorrow and pain they feel each time they pass by this place of darkness and horror.  They are not robots who have no emotions.  

Just as they rejoice over good things, most likely they weep over the bad.  I can see them weeping for the drunk driver. I also see them weeping for the failed relations between nations. When I think about it, I would prefer to ‘not see angels weep’.
05032016  PS Contest, Even The Angels Wept, by John Lawless

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Soulless Love

How could I have been so blind

You torn out this heart of mine

I thought I knew you but I don't

Your soul is black

Black as night you live in torment and put up no fight

You leave a path of despair 

You live like you have no care

You cut like a knife into this heart of mine we had such little time

You have fangs and no heart we never really had a start

We shall walk this world apart

I have to recover my heart 

My soul less love we now shall part...

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Blown Away

A Home, once…
 Beautiful, entertaining and pleasing
Graced with the old and young
Smiled with peace and comfort
Bloused with a brotherly gown
Sheltered neighbors and those from afar
Shared with and welcomed strangers
Adored with a palatial ambiance

Now in the literature of times
As a heart for the scary
Graveyards stretch-out its vicinity
Engraved with skull ornaments
Covered with aghast perfumes
Ghosts roam allover
With echoing voices
All roots far fetched.

Copyright © Ediruma Edward Eric | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


I am torn cause you broke my heart

I am torn cause you act like you had no part

I am torn cause you went away

I am torn cause your choice was not to stay

I am torn cause I believed you

I am torn cause you said we were threw

I am torn cause you said goodbye

I am torn cause our love was a lie

I am torn cause you walked away

I am torn cause I don't know what to say

I am torn cause I don't know what to do 

I am torn cause my heart can't live without you.....

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


Why do you who
insist that you love me
continue to rape my spirit.

Suffocating it as the wolf censors
the sheep’s last breath

You insist that I be as you dictate
but, you bleed me.

I a pawn; you a player
you manipulate my existence

Lost in the group mind of ignorance
you smother me.

My soul is older than you
Yet, you would sever
my physical existence.

Perhaps I should have aborted you
and kept the others human…perhaps…

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014