Monday, May 11, 2009


Your pain and hurt
by my blinded sword,
my uncaring gesture
for your heartfelt words.

Edge of the cliff
where your talent lies,
you back up and settle
for lyrical rhymes.

I saw the poet,
but not the fear;
when my sword waved
I thought all was clear.

Your armor pierced,
crest wounded,
I carried on
without a clue.

You made certain
that I would pay.
Your revenge
may live to rue the day.

Why? Did you think
I would not rescind
or rephrase and not
hurt my friend?

All this for pride,
your pride,
and now you always
run and hide.

Where can I hide?
Can I?
You stripped me
for everyone's eyes.

For a poem.
For I was right.
And tried to bring
your talent to light.

We need to settle
this face to face,
Like men, not mice,
and end our disgrace.


2 comments:

  1. hey! thanks for the visit. you have a lovely site here.

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  2. Thanks, Shadow. I am pretty sure I plagiarized with this poem (first stanza only), but I am about to edit and give some kind of credit. Some things are running together; but I think I was able to convey the message the way it needed to be, maybe. Your site rocks. I've been reading for a little while. =)

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