It
is demolished, the thought of
forgiveness.
The thought of
conversation,
to come forth with every truth.
Unspoken,
every lie saunters,
dawdling through thick grasses,
where
snakes slither and poison
grows.
Horror has replaced
hope,
though both outnumbered
by time's indifference.
Guilt,
once wrongly settled
upon my shoulders
returns itself to
you.
Excuses, yours to give
come spewing.
Meaningless
and as effective as a
drought.
Forgiveness that you're not
worthy of,
granted.
Uncaring and neutral.
Unaffected and
unblemished:
hidden scars only ever telling
that reality.
The
truth which you're unable to give
not bothered to place.
The
truth that I do not wonder.