Utterance

It's uttered that
Some things are better left unsaid.

But when the hours pass
and the days end,
silence still remains
consuming every breath,
controlling every thought,
destroying every hope of redemption.

It is the death of dreams.
It is the unknown master of the puppet of pain;
It controls the dance performed.
And when it is over,
it leaves your heart
pained
empty
broken



Poetry by lexie
Read 675 times
Written on 2010-07-21 at 04:51

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