The Wider Road Of Anguish ( a poem )
The path we trod might seem fair
To our darkened eyes,
Yet ‘tis full of the corpses
Of loved ones, as well as those we despise;
Wounded to death by an action or a word
That fell from our spiteful lips,
A tell-tale heart that beats with anger,
This is what caring only for self gets.
A daughter’s
place is on her father’s knee when young
And in his heart ‘til death,
Ye not all paths we choose to choose
Lead us to this happy end.
.bmp)
No comments:
Post a Comment