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To Mold And Set
Remember when 'that' innocence,
Within us came to linger?
Abhorring aberations...
Of anything that conflicted,
With a pride in ourselves...
That was raised to be upheld?
And respect was expected.
And onto it we gelled,
To mold and set.
Now the onslaught of truth,
Seems to be an albatross!
Encumbering an easy breathing...
That brings a disbelieving sweat,
Squeezing sensibilities...
With regret too thick to reject.
Trust and faith,
Have switched places with suspicion.
And clouds gather in skies to bring tears,
To many eyes.
Now we spy on each other,
Wondering who has been true.
Expecting everyone to lie,
And be deceitful too.
To become molded and set...
In a reflected collected mess,
Of unhappiness no one wished kept...
To keep!
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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