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Beware the Soul of Softened Heart Horrid wretch you lie alone. Awake to greet the coming dawn. Mourning mornings now long gone. Once fertile heart now overgrown. With choking weeds and bitter roots, Prickly burrs and soured fruits, Rotten earth and twisted vines, Beggar lice and dandelions. Revel in that secret Hell Of hopes and dreams you cannot tell. Imprisoned in your heart a slave, A restless corpse, an open grave. |
Additional Notes:
I wrote this poem while struggling to deal with the death of my father. It was the first time I experienced true loss, and the ordeal almost killed me as well. I tried to pour all my bitterness, pain, anger, and exile onto paper, and this is what came out. Oddly, I wrote this in about ten minutes and submitted it to an online poetry site, and once done, I was able to cope with my feelings, like they had a collective face suddenly and I could fight them. This was published in "The Colors of LIfe" , International Library of Congress, 2003.
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