A poem writ itself...
You frustrate words that want to tear apart
The simple truth you cannot understand.
I'll join you on that precipice of hearts
In a place that seems like la-la land.
Yet hidden in this magic world I fear
That some where, maybe unbeknownst to you,
Lurks a demon's voice, but one you cannot hear,
Or one whose words you cannot listen to.
A serpents tongue that feeds a fragrant flame
That casts an eerie shadow cross your eyes,
And noxious fumes that waft like ghosts whose shame
Bursts forth and froths on lips sealed by your lies.
Now, standing on that precipice, alone,
The wind and me, upon that lonely stone.
The simple truth you cannot understand.
I'll join you on that precipice of hearts
In a place that seems like la-la land.
Yet hidden in this magic world I fear
That some where, maybe unbeknownst to you,
Lurks a demon's voice, but one you cannot hear,
Or one whose words you cannot listen to.
A serpents tongue that feeds a fragrant flame
That casts an eerie shadow cross your eyes,
And noxious fumes that waft like ghosts whose shame
Bursts forth and froths on lips sealed by your lies.
Now, standing on that precipice, alone,
The wind and me, upon that lonely stone.