Bitter the Bite

Everything that you want

Is anything that I have

Except for pure emotion,

That I’ll keep in my hand.

Foolish, taking command,

From someone so bland

What a shame that it’s this,

I’d rather the fist,

 

Than sit in a cell where you dwell.

So proud, so haughty,

Thinking it ought to be,

That she would attain

Anything else, this low plane

Where life lives in twain.

Separated from truth,

Existence aloof.

Not desiring pain,

Not growing in sane,

Fleeing from feeling

Which isn’t appealing

Building foundations of lies.

No surprise when traps set

Just sit there, unmet,

Praying that prey may dive in.

Upsetting to think that the wind

Could be so easily won;

Not captured in bars,

The frontiers so far,

Cosmic the reach of the flow.

Wallowing, poor kitten pours,

Of the feeling, being hatred, on toward,

A swallow sings, opening door.

Giving life, not the one he’d adored

 

 

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