With It Done

Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

It's too late for one to hide from lies,
With it done.
It's too late to change a fake belief,
Since with it done...
It's too late to admit to a mess,
With it openly observed on the scene.

And with it done,
It's too late to admit to mistakes.
And with it done,
It's too late to mend a heart that breaks.
Since with it done,
It's too late to provide a comfort...
To someone with a pain that aches.

With it done,
It's too late for one to hide from lies.
With it done,
It's too late to change a fake belief,
Since with this done...
It's too late to admit to a mess,
With it openly observed on the scene.

And with it done,
It's too late to admit to mistakes.
And with it done,
It's too late to mend a heart that breaks.
Since with it done,
It's too late to provide a comfort...
To someone with a pain that aches.
Since with this done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing is the cause,
To produce the effect.

Since with it done,
It's too late for one to hide from lies,
To overcome and forget.
Like nothing is the cause,
That produces the effect.

And with it done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing causes,
The effect.

And with it done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing causes,
The effect.
With it done.

Comments about With It Done

Lawrence S Pertillar, I enjoyed the poem. With it done, agreed, but my mind questions, we live in a world where every single one of us at some point has blundered, with it done, as a person, as a nation, as a society, as a people. The most barbaric of feats have been globally and universally accomplished by all nations and all people. Every nation has a Lady Macbeth. No one seeks the perfumes of Arabia. What next? Will the cycle of self delusion continue or shall we ever break free, like the subatomic particles in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN?


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