The Poorest Promise

The delicate voice of conscience called,
As I listened in the quietness of my soul;
There where secrets began to seep and overflow,
There where answers began to unfold;
Deep and damaging,
I had them received.

The serpent bit. I was his prey.
Wading through erroneous emotions;
Years wasted on a festering foundation;
Shaken by truth,
Awakened by the poorest promise.

It’s a place I never wanted to revisit,
But the fire burnt through,
And built an entrapping hedge;
I could no longer breathe;
Arrested in the heat of all the blank spaces,
And everything else in between.

It manifested like a man-sized,
Mannequin beast;
Hurled careless words
that cut deeper than a knife;
Like fighters in the rain,
Raw, lethal and exposed.

The power of an undivided heart;
In the thickness of the night;
Such a priceless theft,
Of the cheapest known vow;
Retreating to advance,
But never to be visited again.

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