Sunday, July 17, 2005
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This is my barbed wire tragedy,
these concrete walls were built for me.
Alone and dark,
my cast-iron heart
has never felt so free.
This is the graveyard of my eyes,
things fall apart, although we try.
This place is dead
inside my head,
but somehow I can't cry.
This is my epitaph come true ,
I hid, and stayed away from you.
I built myself
as someone else,
and I just wish you knew.
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|Reviewed by M Flack
|Wow is one word to describe this poem. Very moody and Gothic in nature...
Perhaps even a little cryptic in its' message...
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
|Haunting imagery, chilling verse--excellently conveyed! Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
|Reviewed by Brian Pellerino
You float untethered in this forlornity. Your detached regret is heartwrenching. Very emotive and understated.
|Reviewed by Sue Hess
|i can relate to this very well, excellent poem|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|the real tragedy is when we keep our love to ourselves ...|
|Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie
|So very deep and dark, this touches the soul, excellent poem.