PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I stop my soul of hate

I stop my heart of ache

And if it's been too long 

Since Ive been gone 

Then just hurry up and wait,

I'm clear headed 

With a heavy chest 

The lies I've told 

Could use a confession 

But don't just guess 

That it's probably stress 

Because the last thing I'd want 

Is to be tested,

Arrested by a choice

Held hostage by the threat of vice,

Some sources maintain 

That the dad's to blame 

But you know what they say about 

Beating dead horses, 

No future 

No past 

Not even a glass to hide in 

Or a bottle I can half way trust,

Just the dust and the wind it rides

This ever growing trend I try

Until they cancel the current event,

A capsule 

A cancer 

A stalwart standing sin

The three things to seek 

In a love I can pretend,

If she's the ladder 

I'm the rung 

The hanging body, 

The unsung,

Just spinning 

In the twitch's direction, 

Which ever way the legs kick 

Arms shake, 

Wrist's twist,

I'll spin endless 

In the piss poor 

Victory Assembly,

we make sense 

of the senses