Post by daena on Sept 7, 2005 10:23:52 GMT -5
Thy False Treat
What is the heart, but a fragile flute,
precariously balanced on the thread of life?
One turn and the glass fall'th forever,
down, down, down to shatter....
Forever the wind's toy to scatter....
And I, no more the clever, see?
A puppet drawn upon a string,
"Oh fie!" cry I, from the perilous perch,
I teeter, unknowing, in the dark....
"What journey hath I taken to embark....?"
Thy words are like weapons,
Thy weapons...sharp blades,
and they cut me deeply until I bleed.
The pain is hot, bittersweet....
My passions...fed by thy false treat....
Tho' now I know it was but a dream,
'twas pleasant, I never wished it's end,
Alone I stand and embrace the cold.
Would that I, then, love and fall...
Then never to have loved at all.
What is the heart, but a fragile flute,
precariously balanced on the thread of life?
One turn and the glass fall'th forever,
down, down, down to shatter....
Forever the wind's toy to scatter....
And I, no more the clever, see?
A puppet drawn upon a string,
"Oh fie!" cry I, from the perilous perch,
I teeter, unknowing, in the dark....
"What journey hath I taken to embark....?"
Thy words are like weapons,
Thy weapons...sharp blades,
and they cut me deeply until I bleed.
The pain is hot, bittersweet....
My passions...fed by thy false treat....
Tho' now I know it was but a dream,
'twas pleasant, I never wished it's end,
Alone I stand and embrace the cold.
Would that I, then, love and fall...
Then never to have loved at all.
If thou wishes'...and Sir Shades dothn't mind it...I could put here a few guidelines for speaking the old english. I'm glad thou didst like the poem, though. I wrote it on the verge of mine own broken heart.