Ugliness reared its head, stealthy
And victorious, smiling slyly
Over the dying causes, lost tidings of joy
With their holds, loosening, fading.
Bitterness triumphed every time,
As did the ego, that clashed in rhyme;
Promises fled, and shattered good wishes
As the anger grew, and threatened to give way.
The silk shackles hardened into iron-
The slow flame of heat began firing,
Like balls of cannon, for destroying
The unnamed but real; no room for crying!
Some had called it love, some called it passion and others, fools-
But all knew, that what was burning, were the immortal souls.
Guria - The Misfit Girl™
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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