Sunday, March 6, 2011

Bitter Butterfly

The searing resonations, of your thoughtless words,
Condemn the sharpest Nations, to ignorance deferred.
Prefer to heed the calling, of the bitter butterfly,
In my dreams I'm falling, to a vicious lullaby.
Crying scarlet rivers, for all the choking memories,
Our love's become misfigured, from these force-fed pleasantries.

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poems and thoughts by E.A. Skanchy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License