Wednesday, March 23, 2022

Amerika - a poem



Her face now a Botox mask
No longer capable of smiling
Only wearing a disdainful scowl
And you mean this is my Lady?

My all American Beauty?
Given over wholly to Her body
In those darkest hours of night,
When it is always the coldest,
She no longer comforts my bed

And when I look into Her eyes
I do not see Her Soul anymore -
A terrible feeling as if my own heart
Has now abandoned my chest 

No comments:

Post a Comment