A bleeding heart -By David Bartholomew

Filed under: Life And People |

I have become a public ridicule
With distain they stare as I totter
Even the young now wrinkle because of me
To a public commentator
I am nothing but winnowed chaff
A totem anchored in marinade
A topaz bringing out putrid
A daisy that is expose to the cannon ball
The latch hold back

As its sinews swim in wanton
The dais I once stood shoulder high
To the applaud of the community
Now echo apocalypse
No more the lad’s hero
A lone path I now take
Accompanied only with me an elegy
My friends now wish me am elegy
A ferocious beast, now the children’s puppy

The Gods have been pleased to strike me and bring low
With inert I cry aloud
And the early wrinkle on my face makes a perfect trail for my tears
At twin-light I come out in camouflage
Those that mock me are no saints
Blood atonement, the creator frowns
Or I would rather exist this eerie world
For day and night I await the catacomb bell
When will this prison set free my soul?

And this darkness let go my hand
So I can join my ancestors
Who now stands on the firmament dunes?
For no more looks to attract maidens
No longer a saint for church benediction

Normal
0

false
false
false

EN-US
X-NONE
X-NONE

I have become a public ridicule

With distain they stare as I totter

Even the young now wrinkle because of me                

To a public commentator

I am nothing but winnowed chaff

A totem anchored in marinade

A topaz bringing out putrid

A daisy that is expose to the cannon ball

The latch hold back 

 

As its sinews swim in wanton

The dais I once stood shoulder high

To the applaud of the community

Now echo apocalypse

No more the lad’s hero

A lone path I now take

Accompanied only with me an elegy

My friends now wish me am elegy

A ferocious beast, now the children’s puppy

 

The Gods have been pleased to strike me and bring low

With inert I cry aloud

And the early wrinkle on my face makes a perfect trail for my tears

At twin-light I come out in camouflage

Those that mock me are no saints

Blood atonement, the creator frowns

Or I would rather exist this eerie world

For day and night I await the catacomb bell

When will this prison set free my soul?

 

And this darkness let go my hand

So I can join my ancestors

Who now stands on the firmament dunes?

For no more looks to attract maidens

No longer a saint for church benediction

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}

Comments

comments