Innocent eyes..
but her thighs told me otherwise.
a mask over her demeanor
so no one could realize,
the pain she bestowed
when drowning under water...
her eyes were timed like an
hourglass waiting for time to un-wine
her eyes told a story of grief,
disbelief, and that she needed some relief,
the darkness her eyes beheld,
were like the dark side of the moon.
she never cried, kept a smile on her face,
no one ever knew the secrets she consumed
her wrist had scars,
as deep as the ocean
the blood was running like
the water of a thousand potions.
i can admit i miss your presence,
your beautiful smile,
and how your aura glowed in the darkness.
i wish you never committed suicide that summer morning...

I am the oak bent or' and aged
That once stood brave as natured raged
the lines were drawn the battle staged
and man with time compassion caged

I am the field scarred by each track
that shared the weight of soldiers pack
and too felt pain from shell and flak
and those gone forth no more came back

I am the breeze scented with death
as noxious gas inhaled as breath
sent young men blind without the f
and yet their leaders ears were deaf

I am the rain washed or their blood
and roused the poppies from their bud
to honour all whom fought for good
but died before they ever should

I am the cross the epitaph
the stolen kiss the chance to laugh
when young men walked the broken path
of anguish and the aftermath

I am the note that says beware
tread lightly here with tender care
for fresh eyed boys with features fair
bore arms for you now your weight bare

I am the oak with shrapnel scars
that guides their souls to waiting stars
where commoners prop up the bars
toasting their faith with three hoorars