Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2012
unpleasant gestures fill the room with tense passion
why do you do it and how does it work
my sorrow is great undetermined to whom
answers untold will linger and lurk
accused of the truth stops me in my tracks
questions firing but the answer still lacks
should i come clean
or should I stay on my track
my mind kept locked by the way shell react
stuttering for time
stuttering for you
i enter my mind searching for a clue
my awaiting epiphany hides in discretion
until the bridge is gapped for the end of suppression
but the overpass gives out from the absence of speech
and my conscience will slowly be unwound and breached
truth, like water flows over my bridge
carrying the broken pieces over my figurative ridge                    
as the truth rushes through it brings with it remains
of the untold lie that will soon be named
or perhaps renamed as my self proclaimed title

is that how you see me
thats not who i am
youre blinded by hate
my lie started little
but ended too great
so dont drowned in my river
charge at it with force
swim through it with trust
and open the doors







............
Written by
Matthew Orchoski
740
   Brian Downs
Please log in to view and add comments on poems