The Question

Your frayed excuse for torrent cries,

The stanless tears of compromise.

Enjoy the beast apon your breast.

Its all a tasteless kind of test.

For sirenity will cloud the bluest sky.

And rain will fall with a compliant hiss.

Whether ask yourself of why?

Or lead head on with a lovers kiss.

The difference is in the haunt.

Reflective kind of angered rant.

With nothing lost, nothing gained.

The intricate shadow of your pain.