cold-eyed (Remove filter)
The Conscience You Never Had
That inner limb was lacking
A sense of right and wrong
Like a pane without glass
A melody without a song
You possessed virtues of sorts,
Were, not by any means, all bad,
Yet I remember you only for
The conscience you never had
Fissures materialised where
The inner self was displayed
Skeletons in your cupboard
Facade aside, were betrayed
Good times...
Saturday 10th October 2020 10:59 am
Recent Comments
leon stolgard on SPIKE-LIKE
19 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Tales of the Riverbank
31 minutes ago
Tom Doolan on Shimmering Light
2 hours ago
Tom Doolan on One Tear at a Time
2 hours ago
David RL Moore on Tales of the Riverbank
2 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Evan Tyler
3 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on The End of His Tether
3 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on One Tear at a Time
3 hours ago
David RL Moore on A Life in the Day
4 hours ago
Tom Doolan on St George’s Day
5 hours ago