s./j. goldner (March 2nd,1984 / USA)
Humor is your greatest defense
but the irony has had a bitter influence—
it’s turned compassion inside out
renting more space to doubt.
A heart’s reserved for a lover’s voice
not the angry guilt of sour ploys.
Under the guise a constant lacks—
fallen beneath clandestine cracks.
You don’t stand the test of time
situations find the better rhyme.
It wasn’t a long way down is what I’ll report;
in fact the trip was rather short.
Fighting so long to keep out the darkness—
now you’ll never know what you’ve missed.
No one broke you the news:
baby you were born to sing the blues.
One track keeps repeating in your soul—
while it takes a physical toll.
And in your mind the cleverest confusion:
a slowly unfolding delusional illusion.
Comments about this poem (Delusional Illusion by s./j. goldner )
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