Vincent Dali


UNTITLED


I let my demons fallow never led
Don’t let your mind be what these demons feed
Looking back in retrospect
Seeing all the mistakes that I regret
Tasting a high that helps my mind to forget
The bar of soap can’t wash the hands free of sin
The mirror above the sink doesn’t show the reflection within
Her eyes filled with pain
I sympathize for her lushes lips in vain
Her hair flows all around with her thin eyebrows touching her bangs
The nape of her neck bleeds from the sinking fangs
Her tragedy filled with mocking comedies
Let them laugh, don’t let her fall
She waits for a hand to reach out and catch her falling soul
Pay the pipers toll
Maybe then she can redeem herself
Reestablish her health
The thin line she tip-toes between love and hate
Trip one time and cross the line and all is up for debate
This falling soul is tormented by the loneliness of the fall
She can’t feel the touch but can hear the call
Her heart has a sorrow filled tale to tell
Reach out to her falling soul don’t let all efforts fail
Hands taken away burned not by open flame, but hatred of hell
So this tale of horrific tragedy couldn’t be written
Yet it was and it is and will be until her soul is caught

Submitted: Wednesday, April 01, 2009

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Comments about this poem (UNTITLED by Vincent Dali )

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  • Greenwolfe 1962 (4/2/2009 11:32:00 PM)

    This started out talking about him, then it talked about her. I don't know when or how the transition took place. Nor do I know the meaning of this one, except
    to say that her soul is falling. I don't know from where or why or how it came to
    fall, I just was told it was. I suppose someone is supposed to catch it. And
    what does it mean if they do. I have no answers, only questions about this
    piece of writing. So, I can't comment on this one either. Whatever!

    GW62 (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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