In my vineyard of misery there bears a fruit supple to the taste. When plucked and churned by you the cultivator of my ill faith, gives birth to a vintage brew,a beverage of sorrow, One so intoxicating which leaves a drunken ecstasy on your lips. The image of my pain don't stir sympathy in your wretched soul. From you there is no care, when the price of my turmoil bring you a profit. I died because you wanted me to die. Lived a love that was lie. In the library of your mind, within the archives, you'll find me inside. But when you die, your sins won't be able to hide. And in hell I'll greet you with a smile.
Hi IvoryPetals, To my knowledge, this the first poem of yours that I have read, but I assure you, it will not be the last! Excellent construction and flow/rhythm in free verse... Love this piece! Great Work Robert
great! can't compose that beauty without the treachery of a beauty!! sorry your last wish will also be unfulfilled, she will go to hell and you to heaven but don't worry there you shall find her true copy and you won't miss her!!!
Comments (3)
To my knowledge, this the first poem
of yours that I have read, but I assure you,
it will not be the last!
Excellent construction and flow/rhythm in free verse...
Love this piece!
Great Work
Robert