You are right, but how right?
Confident, but still a child
The pain you flow unto me
I comfort
Alcohol arrogance
Strife quarrel
The dead feeling I have
The love you bring through arrogant speech
My quandary
Logic, heart, in conflict
Mind angers, heart pains
The life I give, the advice forced
Clouded foolhardy my soul
The soil I bury myself in
Funerary depth, a muse I follow
Enquire, but shamed
Tears unto my heart, mind, but no soul.

Ian V. Seymour ©2011

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