A Broken Prayer

June 8, 2009
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Let them see the golden façade
With soft brown eyes and a kind smile,
Appealing stature, completed in his
Nurturing arms.

Forbid them to see the run-down image of truth
With wicked bloodshot eyes and a grimace from hell,
Frightening height completed with arms
Like that of a vice.

Let them hear the silky oratory
Of one kin to the great Ulysses,
Words that drip honey in the sweet
Dulcet tones of his voice.

Forbid them to hear the malicious phrases
That flow like water with the setting of the sun,
Words that lash deeper than any cat-o-nine
Rumble from his heartless chest.

Let them feel a gentle touch
Like that of a rose petal lilting softly to the ground,
An embrace filled with warmth and
Compassionate wishes.

Forbid them to feel the vicious pressure
That closes my throat and bruises soul deep,
A pressure that fills my spirit with icy dread
At what his impersonal touch might do this night.

I have but one wish
Before this night consumes me…
Please God let them see the spiteful truth
Before it’s too late and my faint light,
Blinks out.

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