The threshold of a man, absence of his fears,
Reflective anger here abound, nor forbidden tears.
Channeled worth, adhered by masks,
Contemptuously displayed,
The planets worth, in a grasp,
Neglected day by day.
Bring the man a dollar, sifting in soliloquy,
Rested on your shoulder, his heavy head it sleeps.
Righteous not of true deceit, falling like the leaves.
In seasons missed by greed.
Oh unvirtuous disease.
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Comments2
This poem seems a reflection and the question is whether it is of internal or external issues. Well written
A deeply moving read for me. Most thoroughly moved 🙏🏻🕊
Thanks for reading and commenting
Most welcome dear friend 🕊️🙏
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