heart
i have always questioned
what makes up a heart?
how does someone preach and
advocate the simplest of things?
all of it simply adds up to noble words
that will be part of history
but never will be put into action
why speak in a reverent tone
about how you want the world to change
when nobody acknowledges that change?
why do you not shuffle your feet morosely
and withdraw your ardent stare even after
knowing all of that?
talk is cheap, comes easy and travels fast
'i am going to do this! and tomorrow this!'
yet nobody appreciates how actions are
simply as rare as gold
today, your artless complexion can be seen as insincere. tomorrow, it could seen as an admirable alacrity.
we really are nothing but cowards
we applaud the fake and scorn the real
it's no wonder we're all the same
we all have that same bloody gun
in our mouths, simply waiting to pull
the trigger
because that's what we do best
in this world:
dying wild.
YOU ARE READING
that girl
PoetryRemember that girl who sat alone? With a notebook and feather pen in hand? Well she was writing poetry about everything she saw, thought and went through. HIGHEST RANKING: #299 in poetry Started on [5/9/16] copyright: all rights reserved 2016
