With the passing time

He left with the passing time no farewells offered no heartfelt backward glance his footfalls ticking seconds echoing in the Sunday parlours of the righteous he despised He left with the passing time no one mourned,no tears were shed His sacred, bleeding heart now but a tattooed image on the chests of the dejected He left with the passing time on whispers of myths and suspected tall tales doubting his own truth despising the lie of his creation He left with the passing time while pious mice sang of his glory behind the battlements of faith as the wars of the wicked raged in his name He left with the passing time while mothers wailed at shaken babes and the disappeared sang from weed choked graves He left with the passing time as society shunned his brand and drunken feet danced lasciviously on his moral high ground He left, with the passing time...

Request permission to use this poem

Written by

calpurnia-mockingbird

For You?

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write