She makes no sound
The patient man is the one who waits
Takes the bait, and seals the fate
Loves the chase, and hounds the traits
Of misplaced hate, on hardened slate.
Is that you there?
I trace my shadow to feel less alone?
You are in trouble
yet I have no armor to spare.
End of him to aggravate.
Left behind to Separate.
To Separate from last of late.
The patient man will fear to lose..
This makes him rather flawed.
A step across to claim his muse...
She sleeps.. She sleeps.. She makes no sound at all.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.