Final Distortion
It was all the time who told me
To sit back and see,
How to win the Zeal, without profanity but,
Only with the given opportunity;
To endure, to embrace,
To discern and to decept;
Hard to believe if someone is so perfect,
Profound, professed and as if totally impressed.
None ever knew at the furthest,
I would be actually a bait, who was made to wait;
Blown, smashed, kicked and tricked,
My blood just turned to asphalt at this extortion,
Now the time is laughing, seeing at this final distortion.
Damn!
Quavering Poet.
9th April ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com
It was all the time who told me
To sit back and see,
How to win the Zeal, without profanity but,
Only with the given opportunity;
To endure, to embrace,
To discern and to decept;
Hard to believe if someone is so perfect,
Profound, professed and as if totally impressed.
None ever knew at the furthest,
I would be actually a bait, who was made to wait;
Blown, smashed, kicked and tricked,
My blood just turned to asphalt at this extortion,
Now the time is laughing, seeing at this final distortion.
Damn!
Quavering Poet.
9th April ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com
