There is something left
In your eyes, they do not lie
I am my. My is something subjugate
To the lower, low me, below
The radar of my adulate – love me
There is something about you, about
You I will not cry. Find my shirt
Amongst those forgotten, these piles
Of uncertainty.
Solitude is solace in the eyes of darkness
Below the trite smiles of dictatorship
His hands upon me
His hands upon
Me and thus
There is something left in my rust
Please find me, find my shirt; I
Forgot the pageant-ry of Christ and I sin
As a man must.
Loved your poem! There is something in the style I haven't come across before and the subject (human struggle) always of interest. Great poem!
very good kelly, a fine poem for the easter season how are you log time no see Warm regards ajs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem, iv been wonting to use the word trite in one of my poems, ...........