Whittled to waste,
Perfect ion of taste,
Hold tightly wind blaring haste,
Conceal parts still inaptly chaste,
Splice wounded scars of resilient paste;
Careful of whom arms embrace,
World bares no shame of evil traits,
Once, perhaps twice sheered escapes;
Life has but cruel insensitive ways,
Stay upon the road you race,
Count not the days,
For destination resembles not what envisions you prayed.
The second poem I contributed for the second week of the 'May' competition over at PoetsPub
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YOU ARE READING
Between an Antidote & a Dreary Phase
PoetryMy second Edition of a variety of Poetry feelings. For all the support and encouragements you all share with me - I do humbly appreciate all that you say and do. The feeling I get when another writer comments, or votes is imperial to how I interr...
