The Forsaken

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  • Loss

    The Forsaken

    Illusions from the past
    Tormenting my present…
    Ripping my heart
    Abundant pieces sprawl…

    Teasing my wit,
    Slaying my impulse,
    And dodging me in the dark
    The sturdy hands of time...

    The lost element of trust,
    The phony game of love
    The stingy men called friends
    Unveil their factual face...

    No knights stand by my side,
    No swords to defend my pride,
    Alone in the war I stand,
    Differing the mounting tide...

    Empty hands I hold now…
    Kneeling on to my ground…
    With head held high, Frantically gazing at the sky…

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    rattler’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The blown away times 2
    The Horseman 0
    Hint of Life 0
    The Cry 2
    The Craven Path 0
    The Forsaken 0
    From Dawn to Dusk 3