Monday, August 27, 2012


I am tears withheld, and never cried,
A demon, ostensibly dignified,
A vessel for dreams that might have been,
Stifled as they slowly died.

I am poignant promises, unkept,
A dream of hope, killed as it slept,
A hushed scream in the cold, dead night,
A walking corpse for whom none have wept.

I’m the rotting shell of a broken man,
The longing flesh of an unheld hand,
The product of loving, too long alone,
An ocean of grief with nowhere to land.

I am all of these things, and more,
Unbearable sadness, unadored,
A grieving, penitent poet penning
His ever-silent score.

(By SecretedSins)

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