Of Men

Cynical Wordsmith

Inanimate bloodstains,
Dust in the tears’ of men.
Weeping willows shade the truth.
Come,
Come again,
Where fields of Love lay
Barren.
Still these wandering eyes,
Still this beating heart.
Fires of passion,
Dear,
Dead,
In the languid souls of men.
Of men, we wonder.
Of men, we scoff.
Of men, we take.
Till only Death remains.

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.