I
Healing words both yours, mine ... are understood and mis-understood
II
Poets: true artists or activists somehow know poetic license, justice, injustice
Categories:
wordsmithery, wisdom, word play, words,
Form: Monoku
The sunshine in my dying field
Your cheer heals my isolated madness
If only my wordsmithery healed
All of your hidden sadness
I carry a secret that my tongue denies
I'm afraid I cannot bear myself
Though I tell everyone pretty lies
I'm afraid I have grown to hate myself
The plan was to spin a rhyme
Maybe a song of childish bliss
But I hate the night time
Forced to continue on like this
I do not care that I have no home
My hunger troubles me none
It's knowing that I'm very alone
That what once was 3 is now 1
I'd shed this encroaching darkness
If I had never seen these bricks
But the wall has grown into blackness
And this isn't something I can fix
Categories:
wordsmithery, anxiety, bereavement, divorce, heartbroken,
Form: Rhyme