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Sore Eyes

Things left unsaid…

Echoe more beautiful

Then things which we utter



Things left unseen…

Have a greater ecstasy

Then images which we with our sore eyes behold



Youth wasted on the young

As life is wasted on the living

But one day, both, the young and the alive

Will grow old

And then… all our truths will become all our lies.



Fables to guise our foibles

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last updated 11 October 2010 - 10:48pm
©28 July 2002 - 5:59am — mustafa
8 January 2004 - 2:53pm — Bill Billson (not verified)
Bill Billson's picture

I'm sorry. I thought the poet would enjoy a nice in joke from a personal friend of his who could blackmail him if he wanted to.

15 May 2003 - 12:43am — muriel (not verified)
muriel's picture

idiot who wrote the other comment. im simply lettin u know u r an idiot! the poem is great as are the rest! uv got a talent taf!

29 July 2002 - 12:42am — Bill Billson (not verified)
Bill Billson's picture

This is gay as, it's proper gay, you're gay!