Sunday, November 26, 2006

I hated everyone at 14

The world will tell all,
Yet will never be told.

Deeds will be forgotten,
Your sins carved in gold.

Don't tell a broken heart to heal when it can.
None know a broken heart but a broken man.

They shall pour till they cannot,
And their tears, they will dry.

They will build a tower of rage
And keep their fire alive.

Don't name their murder for the poetry of angst.
None but them know the words they had sang.


Until..... said...

Dont know what to say. Hope you are right.

vichchoobhai said...

The evil that men do liveth after them (but not carved in gold as u say unless u r referring to Napolean whose tomb in Paris has gilded notations about his bloody conquests)
the good is oft interred with their bones
That was shakespeare.
But I like your couplet better it is more succinct and conveys the same meaning.
Broken hearts and raging fires, u
r delightful when u write in a frenzy.

Anonymous said...

The fire is very much alive in this "Poetry" than in any Broken Hearts or Men..

Until..... said...

Write more.

therapy said...

Yeah, write more:)