Promises Poem by Becky Schulz

Broken Promises boil in the recesses of a storm,
Churning in the gray mind, the sadness.
Is this the worst thing?

The Crying Mask adorns a serene face
And tells no lies;
Left behind to desire,
Alone to mourn,
Misery and Misfortune are familiar, though unwelcome.
For this Unfortunate, it is the worst thing.
The Cleansing Gaze follows a ray of white light
And sees no hope;
Judgmental neighbors,
Critical unthinkers,
Fools and Fate speak with uncanny grace.
For this Soul, it is the worst thing.

The Hollow Heart fades in the darkness
And implores forgiveness;
Empty laughing rings,
False smiles glisten,
Light and Lure soon won’t matter.
For this Hour, it is the worst thing.

Broken Promises never calm, never fade
Always lingering in the mind.