each lesson is but a hand
clutching the saw that folds the flesh
cracking the cage to the sour soul.
a fragile gentle thing, enveloped in tears
pulled and tattered edges
torn fresh and raw, festering and bleeding
convulsing and withering.
force upon the mottled skin
a breaking furrow in the ivory white
a fervor run dry, to plumes of dust.
Poison TreePoison Tree6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I was in love with my friend;
I spoke my love, my love did wallow.
I was in love with my foe;
I spoke it not, my heart I swallowed.
And I nurtured it in words,
Rise and set with the birds;
And I lured it with glances,
And slow spoken chances.
And it rose both night and day,
Until it became a glimmering ray.
And my love saw it's light
And he knew that all was right.
And beneath my hanging heart.
When the day had shone the mark.
In the night hoping I see
There my love, waiting for me.
After- A Poison Tree by William Blake