Sunday, October 4, 2009

Furtively, it Stalks me

These are the things
That haunt me in the dawn,
Creep up on my shadows
In the dusk,
And fill my heart at midnight.

I know
That these unspoken things
Are far from well,

It's torture,
You see,
To feel these things,
But I suppose that we all must endure
This pull.

For people
Are liars!
They bite their tongues,
And the truth
Shrivels and dies on their lips,
Still warm from secret

For people
Are stupid!
What makes them conceal
The obvious,
No matter the age?

It would be nice
If we could just give in,
At least in our speech,
In our words.

I do not see the need
To carry out such tiring
Ev'ry day of our lives.

There are no masks in poetry,
So I shall express my desires there...

And there is no way to hide
From ourselves,
So I will share these
With the wind.

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