CemeterySound Poetry

[o'queery]

Route of Your Evil



I know
who you
think you
are

but

in essence
you are an
illness

A heartless disease
spread by
your
wanton selfishness to
destroy the
gift of human
love and
trust

I feel your feet
settled against the walls you created

trying

to kick it loose
blaming the bricks that
you alone
stacked so high that even
in regret
you cannot see over to
find yourself

Your pain
is
a Beacon though
the light is just another

lie

You expect people to eat
and be satisfied
with the taste

It's murder
the way you tug
at the strings of

this

beautiful heart I have for unlike me
it is forgiving

I bet the silent
shame
is screaming you to sleep
for the miles of
ache
you have delivered to the
highways of another's trusting heart

The Route

Of

Your Evil