Pain

Our love has become a barren field, useless for plowing…red clumps so dry to the touch turn black with the gentle kiss of ghostly women and children dressed all in black and singing like heavenly angels….

 

over head the black birds congregate to minister unto us the lack of this love…the lack thereof…though existing in a nether, it flies somewhere in its useless carelessness…what have I done? What have YOU done?

 

Where does the greatness of the intelligent planner of our destinies dwell? Hidden faces from a dark cult I believe surely has won….

 

Our love is just pretenses acted out so hurtfully….are we drowning? This point of no return has me depressed and terrified…

 

Isn't it funny? It repeats in a continuous cycle….the poetic drama has been gathered like dead and rotten leaves yet still does not replenish this barren soil….we are fruitless in the eyes of the watchers….we are the tasteless darkness still groping for that glimpse of light….

 

Our love is not the ripe fruit of blessing….it is the curse that only brings us both to tears….generation after generation; can we ask them, "what have you done to us"?

 

We remain silent….no fight to bring it to light….our love has withered and died like the old tree in the country. I hate to look into your eyes….i see such pain…

Reviews

[Hellslastwarrior]

Nice style of reading it really showed emotion. I found it hard to read it in that font i must admit.
Ted

[Ice QueenJen]

I like this style of writing, and how you put into context each saying. Its like a love gone weary and stale after years of not being there in the first place. This was a good poem again Zog!

[Michael X]

I loved the ending to the effect, what followed was every bit as captivating, great job!