Until the Innocent Are Not Punished
Believed things would end how I wanted them to,
But now I can't erase it, so what do I do?
Had hoped things would change, perhaps fix themselves, too.
But most times denial is better than truth.
Murder. A murder. Long dead and gone.
I keen like a loser, full of despond.
Abandoned alone, my love grows cold.
Lifeless I lay here, a lump in a hole.
Tried, tried, and failed to find the joy.
Dropped love, lost love; Watched love get destroyed.
I smelled something caustic, saw decay in my heart.
But now I've no love, so where do I start?
Wish I could dash to a tame place to depart,
But here my soul stays, for I am missing a part.
Murder. A murder. Long dead and gone.
Left like a loser, alone to abscond.
Lucky me, I've these amenities:
Death, damnation, dread, and disparity.
It seems like I never really knew you.
I swear that I tried to, but you'd only elude.
poem by Shalyn Stachmus
Added by Poetry Lover
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