Poison is silence
in quiet perfection
Like beauty is subject
to interpretation

Buried in questions
but not as effective
as digging in deeper
to find an objective

Words are enlightened
but sometimes indifferent
for twisting the truth
while hiding intentions

This is the meaning
but not in this sentence
It’s lost in translation
and void of repentance

For nothing is real
except what you’re feeling
And even that comes
with a slice of false dealing

Poison is speechless
yet part of the answer
It slithers and hides
in your mind like a cancer

Revealing itself
at a time unexpected
When feelings are frayed
and the truth is neglected

Stealing your breath
like the kisses you need
Bleeding your time
like addictions you feed

We each have a version
that’s constantly killing
The spirit inside you
or life we are spilling

The loss of a lover
The death of contentment
The lies of a close friend
that fuels our resentment

Poison is torture
as voices inside you
Keeping you chained to
the darkness that blinds you

We each have a version
that’s constantly killing
The death we’re embracing
or life we’re not living

TM DiSarro

©2021 TM DiSarro / MindScapes Publishing

New Book Available: getbook.at/thebushman