Lack Of Substance

A need to feel
a heart's embrace
the cherry moon
in all its grace.
Individual
entrusting life
to every day
a rhythmic knife.
Rescue us
from mislead minds
choking on
decieving finds.
Blunt the blade
that carves our wrists
that holds the wall
that beats our fists
kissed by love's
frustrated pain,
Showered cries
of crimson rain.
Desire lost
In broken trust
while time rolls on
in clouds of dust.
Grabbing hold
to make it through
this lack of substance
overdue.
Touching hearts
break down the wall
the seperates us
from the fall.
Numbed by life
a warm pain lingers
cursed by love's
razor-sharp fingers.

by Juge Sopczak

Comments (1)

An interesting poem. Enjoyed the read.