Posted in Poems

Squalor

Misery earned
Merriment learned
Hiding behind blame
Feigning the game

Projection of fault
Squalor the result
Guilt will consume
Every empty room

Fill the house
With faking about
Putrid memories
That no one else sees

And in that place
Lurks death’s face
With rancid breath
And a face of meth

Still the sweetest kiss
To release what’s amiss
And spare the rest
Of such burdensome mess

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