You Know Not The Treasure You Have Until You Lost It
by: djzoleta@gmail.com
Total views: 9
Word Count: 210
In an unimpressive tabula rasa of inconveniences,
This poem begins
Emanating suggestive parameters
To cure haters from a disease
Prancing heavily in their social participation
Of haphazard ecological activities.
But I, a lover again, granted a non-frivolous
Emancipation from bitterness,
Steps up in the light
With eyes looked up
And erected posture: A stance of one
Having comforting assurance.
No hater can drive this feeling out from me.
No wretched soul stemming from unwanted
Rancor could, by brute force, take this
Blithe indifference of mine to the covetous eyes
Ogling at my Love. Let them have a look
And drool endlessly for they could do no better
Things to save them
From earning a Loser's tag
On their foreheads.
And I am not their redeemer...
I am just he that walks and loves.
He who throws mockery back at them
For they know nil stuff about love.
And them: not treating their girls right,
Warrant a smile
Upon
My face
Because as they give bad names
To themselves, I basked in glee
With the love that found me,
The love that left their suffocating arms,
The love that dug me back from my death.
About the Author
The Author is also the Content Provider for Track and Field, Notting Hill and Florida Fishing
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