Deception

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Deception

The deep winter delivered a bold layer of snow over the earth’s brittle crust.
as a gentle smoke whispered soft words into the gentle breeze,
The sky slowly dissolves a child in a dense fog.

Heavy air lingered above a pond of lies,
Torrential rains pour down,
Drowning the hope,
Destroying the innocent.

The blurry web of harmony,
is crushed by the thick air of deception.
The earth listens silently,
To the low moans of the defeated,
And to the harsh distress of the dead.

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

GntlWallFlower’s Poems (2)

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