Editor's ChoicePoetrySad Poems

Self

Too many have gone
because I am undone,
a hinge with rusty tone
holding the side,
leaving the center.

I am the image of greed,
a razor causing bleed.
And I daily sow the seed
that covet even the freed.

Drawn from my vein
is the blood of disdain.
To bring wanton gain
as I wield my loose rein.

And the flames of pride
eat up my being on every side.
Then I groan in the wide
till I find a cooling tide.

But I want to die today
So that others may live.
And this I have to say,
“I bring myself to give,
Lord of the refining way.”

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