Robert Bradley | Sunday, 08 August 2021 | Print
Robert Bradley
Desperation makes no sound
Absence of laughter
No sounds of crying
Only loneliness
Falling down below
Sinking into
Despair
I’m sinking in the water
Deeper I go
So far below
No air
I’m walking into the blaze
As I slowly burn
Engulfed in the flame
This thing called
Love
Never fits like a
Glove
Only more push and shove
What good is love
I run out of air
I cough and sputter
My lungs busting
Building
And building
It’s burning
It’s about to explode
The bubbles rush from
My dead carcass
As it settles in silt
And in a thousand years forms
Coil
As I toil
Into possibility
Probability
And it’s death and taxes
And if you don’t want to get burned
It’s best to not play with
Matches
As you smell desperation that makes no
Sound
Copyright©2021 Robert R. Bradley, Jr.,MSW, LCSW, LSATP, CRP
………………………………………………….
Posted 6:38 pm | Sunday, 08 August 2021
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
