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I am from the painted walls
Whose sheens do chip with hate,
And I am from a people who arrive at love too late;
The tintinnabulation of our desecratoin swells
Until our ears, stained red with blood, are ringing like the bells.
A picture's worth a thousand words
A whisper's worth a few,
But whispers gone a thousandfold
Can make great fictions true

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Tiwaz said...
Jun. 3, 2012 at 7:10 pm
Nice. I'm always happy to see a poem around here that's not just straightforward/written about something tangible and easy to understand. It's a good thing to come across a poem that you want to read more than once.
DearBrutus This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Aug. 22, 2012 at 1:44 am
Much thanks! 
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