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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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 26th, 2026 08:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments1
This poem seems a reflection and the question is whether it is of internal or external issues. Well written
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