Tristan Robert Lange

Grin

 

The grin widens
Like the stoned cat
That haunts the dreams
Of the rebellious child.

It stays there
As a crescent moon
Hanging onto the edge
Of raging melancholy.

It lingers on,
And forces its way
Into the minds astray
With endless atrocities.

The grin wins
And soothes those
Who hide from truth,
Like the dead from death.