PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Spitting through this practiced grin

While you curse my toys and call them sin

Weeds of deceit fill my garden of suicides

Where I dwell at all times with my fantasy brides

Marks on my skin where you've prickled me with words

To each I have responded with bitterness unheard

Wells of animosity fill behind my eyes

My quiet is loud in this brittle disguise

In the days when the weather was warmer

When I truly believed you were in my corner

I counted upon your empathetic ear

Now I'm razed your gaze the judgemental stare

And my bones are burdened and my body bruised

When you tell me my time has been misused

Gone are the days of pride and praise

Replaced by haze and general malaise

Withdrawn from living as life has grown sour

With a self-conscious wink I simper and cower

Pounding out the edges and dulling my senses

With mortal fear of the consequences

I feign ignorance and refuse to react

Any response would just seem abstract

I'm weary of being treated as though I were obtuse

And feeling as though I've outlived my practical use