A funny little observation
from my garden...
Everything in moderation
is what they always say...
All the madness
had leached out...
You baked for me the world
smelling of bread...
The stale air lingers,
Emptiness surrounds his heart...
Under this skin,
Deep to the core...
Prunus fruit
is not sweet...
Poem: I, your living God will saved you.
In the valley of boredom...
There will be no sympathy
No one to hold my hand...
What argument is there?
Charged with little claim...
It's the truest cliche
and the cruellest...
The sword I hold is simple,
each swing often denied...