Tattered Bottle on Seas of Broken Promises

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I guess you could call this a heartbreak poem.

Submitted: February 03, 2013

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Submitted: February 03, 2013



I take your words and put them in this wooden box

where lies all lies and hopes like timeless clocks

Every splinter digs through my flesh and bones

Shown, the feelings of a broken love, never fully born

Under scornful lullabies and pleasant suffering

I venture inside the lies, no winds, shattered wings

With flag in hands and heavy scented wine

I preach my convictions on your land so divine

But the cannons... Oh, sweet cannons of hypocrisy!

Shooting on every damn direction the eye can see!

Not only you're scarring this warior of a man

You are damaging your very own precious land!

So tell me, tell me how does it feel to know

the consequences of destroying a bond that clearly showed

trust, passion, comfort and all things deeply desired

and just simply letting pure love go to waste... go to waste

Yet, here I am, the fool singing his own foolsong

drowning in sorrow I've dearly come to know

I'm just a tattered bottle, nothing more, nothing less

drifting on endless seas of broken promises.

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