They

They

I don’t feel like writing poetry,

there is no prose in my heart,

no lyrics in my head.

Only the emptiness,

the gaping hole of loneliness

that they have left me.

In this space dwells defeat;

a monster made of hate,

born of hurt and deep, deep anger,

who will rage against such tyranny.

The cruelty they have shown

cuts deep, leaves vicious scars.

For theirs is the diet of deceit;

They feed upon the immorality,

the duplicity, guile and falseness

of pretence.

They offer love and utter empty promises

and when tested flee

to their chosen sanctuary.

No honour and no faith,

only hollow and superficial words

Sung beguilingly to lure me to my doom.

Mere hypnotic traps that spill from insincere lips

and leave me clinging, helpless,

abandoned upon the storm ravaged rocks of life.

So beware, do not be lured by their affiance,

do not commit your soul,

for such half-women are they.

 

21^st April 2010

Reviews

[Heather]

you seem drawn to the evil do'ers.... such the temptress to take your heart and eat it raw. very descriptive piece, can feel the frustration here.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Yes I guess I am the proverbial unlucky in love! Thanks Heather.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ok just for the record I LOVE WOMEN!