Taunted - Poem by Soren Valentine
Save him, save him!
He cries out for help.
He wars with One,
one who is he and yet is not.
He has fallen;
in his darkest hour he strikes him.
With thorns he has stabbed him.
Yet he makes no effort it seems.
He dabbles back and forth,
never staying for long.
He knows that must change.
He knows it will.
But that time seems to be taunting him,
It reaches out to him with an outstretched hand.
And as he draws closer,
it runs out on the road.
O miserable taunted one!
Comments about Taunted by Soren Valentine
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye