Monday, January 16, 2012

Tainted

This look, this confidence;
This cool stare, the absence of care.
A wall built by supreme cognizance
of the past - an infection,
Perfect proof of the lack of perfection.
Twisting, turning, my soul and my heart.
Love doesn't exist, or did it depart?




Lies.
Resenting.

Presenting - I,
My own. Independent.












Thoughts?
 
<a prelude, more to come>

1 comment:

  1. I like your poetry. It is deep.
    This one seems dark. Love exists. And it didn't depart. God is love.

    Just my take.

    ReplyDelete

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