Massena, NY USA
Aversion hath struck again.
My soul torn in two,
With regarding thoughts of you.
I thought I could grasp the rose so easy,
And all this time I thought my journey had been diminishing?
Losing focus on the entirety and to broaden what is wanted,
Steering my hand astray,
Grabbing so tightly onto the thorns,
My hand left a bloody mess,
A crimson river gashes from the seat of passion,
I once called a heart.
Am I the fool?
The sole benefactor that pours one’s spirit into a golden chalice,
And to watch as it is partaken,
Only to have it spit out,
Burning the orator,
Leaving painful scars and desolate memories.