Flesh meets flesh
The cruelest insult
Physical pain subordinate
To the lingering wound on the soul.
Words are spoken
Only sound, ghosts in the nether
Yet they burn with fire, scald with temper
Break the brittle ego
Dim the fires of the heart
And then, those eyes!
A glance tells all
The final dagger, the mortal wound
The words that say, slowly, clearly
I hate you. You should die where you stand.
This is the language, the world of meaning
I understand all too well.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2025 06:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
Strong words in a powerful poem of past insult and pain. Well written
Very nice poem , it is the reaction against the insult you suffered....
A powerful write of insults and resulting pain, then those eyes, which can so much without a word being spoken, nicely expressed and written
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