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The evenings have become an endless celebration to light hearted pain,
As much a pleasure as a weight upon the mind -
To revel in the foolishness of some,
While laughing with a mocking grin at others' misfortùne -
Such hated passion, passion of such hate,
It mocks us all - shows darker, viler side
We should regret, yet summon in the everyday,
And for this - everyday be damned!
Can we not hold heads high and proud,
Without treading so uncouth upon the scarred and slain;
Is there no honour, left to us in peace?
©2005-2009 ~ThorUK
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Submitted: October 17, 2005
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Author's Comments

Meant originally neither as poetry, nor to be heard elsewhere, but in my mind, it is only by some warped compulsion that I recorded it at all...
Forgive me if it holds no place here - it's but a strand of thoughts, but a glass one, perhaps worth other's eye, perhaps not...
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woah I wish i was as good at this shizz as you! I haven't spoken to you in ages but your work is always as good

lucy xxxxxx

--
I'm a loveable, huggable, friendly garden gnome

:gummybear:! they shall rule one day...
It has been.... a while; good and bad are far too subjective - most of my works make me cringe inwardly due to their inadequacy, lacking....

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