Liars

I’m the Queen of pain, I’m the wallowed widow of grief. My heart continually swollen, as the rust drains the Maple Leaf. I'm the lonely old poet, whose words never hold a rhyme. I’m crusty, wrinkled and sour, and drink spirits most of the time. I’ve lost touch with reality, and live in a bottle of rum. My thoughts wronged and deathly absurd, As I wait for the vultures to come. O close that grey, nasty curtain, it’s time to extinguish the light. Truer words could never be certain, let death find me stiff in the night. Now I’m abundantly laughing, with no one here to hold my hand. Those jerks on earth lied growling. There’s no such thing as the promised land. Written by: Melvina Germain Date: Sept.3/2012