Nice Guys

a poem of annoyance

Fury burns with fires unquenched. Though the tears like rain fall on the flames the steam perpetuates the pain.  I'm tired. The perfect heart beats in fragments from its flawlessness yet it's a curse.  So sick of being dragged through faces of beauty that only reject from fear of closeness or lack of need. Like I had a chance, ha. These faces annoy me now, though I'm addicted to what they offer.  I wish I had been blind to this vision. Nausea rises from the deep at the sight of these loathsome bodies but I enjoy it over and over again.  Writhing in pain I am pleased at myself for my attempt at pleasure, which is a joke apparently.  Never had a chance. I give it my all and want the same back but receive only some spare change for my attempts though they are worth millions.  Perhaps I'm arrogant but why the adjectives of perfect, too sweet, or angel.  I hate my giving but it's who I am, I want to receive on my investment but perfection has no equal I guess.  The nice guy gets left behind these days though never are they perfect, only better.    

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good ending to a excellent poem. Being a good guy can help and can slow down a life. I believe when we get greedy. We are lost forever. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
Coyote