From A Booming Gleam To A Dusted Bust
When one sells their soul...
Why do they become upset,
With regret...
That it can not be purchased back?
And...
Were they paying attention,
When someone told them that?
Apparently not!
Were their eyes just affixed,
On bling and things...
That would keep their addictions,
Rusting away without a benefit to this!
Some lesssons are too late to learn.
And when they are...
Who cares of it?
And a faith in that which had been trusted,
Went from a booming gleam to a dusted bust.
With no one around them,
To discuss mistrust.
Some lesssons are too late to learn.
And when they are...
Who is there to care?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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