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The Attics MAG
In the attics of my life
A man, or perhaps a boy,
Sits day after dulling day.
I bring him food
And I stay to talk to him.
The sustenance I bring
Is lined with lies, coated with sarcasm,
And topped with deceit
But he swallows it all,
And innocently asks for more.
When I am feeling courageous,
I throw a pinch of honesty
His way, hoping for a miracle.
He is so used to the taste
Of my fear and distrust
That he doesn’t even notice
The difference.
© Anonymous
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This article has 2 comments.
AprilSunshine BRONZE said...
on Mar. 19 2011 at 8:02 pm
Well that was... interesting... I liked it alot!
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