hearts of gold praying for salvation
open the damn window
the time opens the mind
absorbed the in the light to become naturally
seen
I have reassured you again my companion
I'm the instigator of affection
my tool is a device we all carry hands on
this time I'm an adult
I can't switch off these games you're wanting to play.
I'm too old now, different and sincere
if you didn't want me why couldn't you just say so
in this growing distance
you're suddenly a spectre of which I couldn't be haunted
by you or anyone
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
