Soft rolling liquid of salty emotion
by Robert L. Bixler III
Begins its decent from strong eyes.
The weakened soul weeps from creation.
Seemingly virtuous, life falls short in lies.
The heart beats, slow rhythm, dispassionately.
Social graces are troubled in proper ties
That are marred by in-actual disruption.
Definitions, for salty, shapeless liquid, are the cries
That ring from biased observation.
Lungs, burning for air, breathe discriminatorily.
Live with chivalric self-expectation,
Or conform to that, which, evokes sighs,
Of offense, from actions calling for lamentation.
Upon either, one must truly philosophize.
The truths of either can be, discerningly,
Decided without considering byes
Of other perspectives; such a wasteful assumption.
Only hands amply judgmental could rise
To such false faces, an ideological conscription.
This teardropp is defined by spherical shape, degradingly.