Author Information
"Barren Soil"
Folder:
South Side Of Love Barren Soil
The ides of March stared
in the gathering of winter's storm
and toxic laden brew.
Cold-hearted bloodlines ran forth
chilling the winds of change
for nowhere is it written,
That love grows where I am buried.
Thunder times are upon us
the roar rippling in each slice of
dagger-embedded betrayal,
Cutting away what was
tearing apart thin-skinned artifacts,
That you once cared.
Laying here
buried beneath your rubble,
Stone-cold pebbles leading the way
to the arch of your heartstamp
stomped in the toxin
of your soul ensnared,
For I have the last laugh
at your grave-side service,
Where I am left standing
in a place, love will never grow.
