Poetry – Page 58 – A (wise) man of two faces

Reminiss 2

After I am gone,
who will remember me and
the warmth of my hands.

The right way is found
not on meadow ground
but deep in the wood
lined by thorns, tipped with blood
of those who tried to go around.

Who will remember
all the lost and lonely souls
which the world forgot.

Gold-haired little girl:
now you like the attention
but that may well change.

What do you say
at the end of the day
when it’s just not enough,
when you’re just not as tough
as you’ve always prayed?

Silver-tongued liar,
you weave a pretty story
and tie your own noose.

What you learn
will return
like a friend, indeed,
in a moment of need
to give you what you yearn.

Please give me a chance,
I will repay your faith with
iron loyalty.

My tears have dried up
and the monster I’ve become
cannot cry for you.

Can you understand the horror
Of shouting into a night
That returns nothing
Not even your own words.