To the Young American
My thoughts must be said.
Can you love as I can,
Or are your feelings staid?
Dear young sir,
I need to ask a question.
Do you mean you really love her,
Is she your only icon?
Is she your only devotion,
The one you'd give your life for?
Is she the only one
Whose absence makes your heart sore?
To the Young American
My thoughts must be said.
Is your heart an iron dagger
With which countless lies are bled?
I see you toy with her emotions,
Threading them with darts.
Your words like piercing bones,
You break countless young girls hearts.
Does it bring you pleasure
To witness their great pain?
Are you compelled with great pressure
To destroy their will from death to refrain?
Mr. Young American,
I ask once this day,
Did you make another cry again
While you ran off to play?
 Prometheus-of-the-Pies · Fri Jun 23, 2006 @ 09:26am · 0 Comments |
