Truth to be told,
the greatest token.
Words to be seen
but never spoken.

Concealed with barbed wire,
shed in good faith.
Dreams come undone,
this is the fate.

The Winter of past,
becomes the truth.
Whatever was,
it is the youth.

Torment is real,
writhe in pain.
Scrutinised before long,
nothing to gain.

Bearer of news,
born to adore.
Make a conclusion,
find and abhor.

The pungent smell,
arisen from the grave.
Words rot,
giving as much as it gave.


Publisert under Dikt