Stephen Rogers

Confession - Poem by Stephen Rogers

How can I confess that which I have done,
to do so would be to lose the sun,
that which brightens every day,
that which inspires me in every way.

Though the joke may be on me,
the jest can be seen on you,
the vision of that apple tree,
the one you can no longer see.

Maybe your vision is impaired,
maybe the tree still stands,
maybe it fell because you stared,
your gazing eyes burning it's soul.

Though you see the glass as half-empty,
I see it as completely empty,
I killed a tree, a living entity,
Life can only be given to those who earned it.

The tree may have earned it's place,
though I have now lost mine.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 30, 2010

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