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Callous to the Last
By Mauler
It makes
Pathetically
A picture of a sort
Unseen by mortal eyes in dirt
Below
A crux
To us inside
Ourselves we do not see
What fame relieves us from our loss?
Nothing
But you
Now fail to see
With the eternal lies
We have placed into gravity
For us
Knives in
Ecstasy out
Summon the day’s last breath
Vomit the blood, which you did take
Lie down.
Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited.
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Copyright 2003 Mauler
Published on Friday, September 12, 2003.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "Callous to the Last"
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On Friday, September 19, 2003, Dancing_Monkey
(1246)
wrote:
this was way to short.. i just got started and wanted more... much more.. Monkey
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