untitled 08/15/2005
Always do I turn and flee— In cowardice, or weariness, or fearing Lest emotional debris endow My words with sorrows blearing What I truly want to say… I fail at rhyme and rhythm, Though with other thoughts succeed— And refract a crooked prism’s Spectrum, easily misleading… Pain I pour with ease and skill, But love—and hope—and strength—I kill: By running from their mastery I dissipate them into dust… And yet again delay your trust… August 15, 2005 Houston, Texas Age 24 © Talya Sara Emery Sign in to see full entry.