Faith?, Hope?

This is faith to me;
a zenith screaming to my habitual, ever discerning dreams
Being an uncertain future bathing in my unsure thoughts
crying from a bite of the beguiled rattlesnake
unto strike toward our failing Health
I wonder if future happiness is real

Friends disappear, like bone dust
They lie, and rape trust
Like the cheap whore of the warped mind

loves is lost to time and distance
this could be faith to me
and like my mind
it betrays me.

Ian V. Seymour ©2012

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