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Thursday
May 31, 2012
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  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Entertainment >> ID #656235  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Bitter Taste
Bitter Taste is a poem about addiction and it's peril.
Rated:
ASR
by
Avg Rating: (2)
The biggest deal made
coming to an end.
Unaware of words exchanged
contract, couldn't comprehend.

Origin from where he came
sightless the clue.
Memories of when he signed
was not allowed to do.

Desires overwhelming
time dealt its cards so well.
Re-shuffle, a consideration
the choices none to dwell.

Gifts and promises given
always through his life.
Never wondered why they came
accepted all in stride.

Friends could have helped
indications some had shown.
Always not for him to notice
the shrewd they had known.

Wisdom, kindness they would use
friends they never were.
The cost multiplying higher
then any mortal could endure.

Draining all the good-
giving up their guilt
swallowed the demon did their soul
becoming riddled overthrown.

Though twenty-one he was
he would die before his next.
His prognosis never solved
diagnosis incorrect.

The pain now receding
loneliness disappeared
anguish melting his heart, vanished
the problem was now theirs.

Time grew closer
tears of death he could taste-
"Do not feel sorry for yourself"
that is what they did say.

Hypocrites they became
could not understand the pain
rushing into them now-
their lives would be drained.

All memories erased
a trip within a vault he made-
all pasts forgotten
future decisions, exited the same.

They, who he never knew
none coupled with relations.
Somehow punishment was not enough
he disqualified as a savior.

They had not felt sorry for him
but happen now for themselves.
He did feel with reason, it was just
the saint he never was.

They died alone and afraid
the pain stayed 'til the last-
reasons of death not given
officials couldn't grasp.

Every memorial vacant
funerals all no shows.
The caskets made of ply
they lay aside from all.

Dead, alone they would stay
God only knows the reason why
other then the ungodly saint
not one utterance can he try.

Peaceful?
Never allowed the rest-
beginning on that first day.
A test created conceiving not an end
forever mindless, that creature must stay.

More years than any angel
how and why he did not say-
Satan did fear that creature
in him hell...another day of play.
© Copyright 2003 Steve (UN: sjlund at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Steve has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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