Day Of The Dread
Day Of The Dread
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Sunday, March 4,2012, @ 12: 20 PM
Rose red yet no one speaks for the dead
The blind was foolishly led
No place to lay my weary head
No one listens to the words I've said
Empty is my lonesome bed
Hanging on by a thread
Happiness hopelessly fled
By bliss I was misled
All the books I never read
So many words left unsaid
I thought I was happily wed
Precautions I should have taken instead
The heart hungers unfed
Broken it hides in the shed
Buttered both sides was my bread
The spirit bashed against the bulkhead
Lifeless it rests on the seabed
Nothing it has left to look for ahead
Unfastened fitted bedspread
For lines I never proofread
Sweet words listened by the dread
Arms were always outspread
Forgiveness I once pled
Gold has turned to poisoned lead
Rivers run red
Letters immediately I shred
Shorten are the wings I spread
Sour now is the sweetbread
Descending on a paper sled
Burdens get over fed
Prepared woefully to unwed
Needles now unthread
Ascending struggles the moped
Blues turn a bloody red
Words often misread
Never should I have let you into my head
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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