Poetry

Dishonorable False Man

I’m trudging through the graveyard of my pains. Difficult to find justification in the need to stay and keep on fighting, since in the end I have been dishonored. What is driving me now beyond my fear? Nothing more than the love of a false man.

Poetry

Lonely Hour of the Night

It’s in this night hour that I am lonesome as rain patters deep within my tired heart. It’s here I find myself seeking longest the truth now lost but once honored and loved. My trust is gone for nothing can color this broken and weak soul with happiness.