The hatchet never buries: A poem 

Posted bymontecyrilPosted inUncategorized

You, who have despoiled my paradise, 

cursed my locks like lice 

I am sleepless by your treachery 

It obsesses my brains like debauchery 

I walk the streets precariously, lest rage 

break my spirit, rip my veins 

In exile, I find hope’s refuge 

The thirsty foliage is my concierge 

Yet, I make grace my wage 

and patience I make my plumage 

Never a word to the unsuspecting world 

My flags are invisible and unfurled 

You attempt to knock at my door, 

asking for peace, leave unsettled the score 

To you I say forgiveness is for the fairies, 

that the hatchet never buries 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

3 thoughts on “The hatchet never buries: A poem ”

  1. to you I say – bury the hatchet and unburden yourself . to forgive is for one’s own peace of mind …;well written poem expressing your views so delicately

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  2. to you I say – bury the hatchet and unburden yourself . to forgive is for one’s own peace of mind …;well written poem expressing your views so delicately

    Like

    Reply

  3. to you I say – bury the hatchet and unburden yourself . to forgive is for one’s own peace of mind …;well written poem expressing your views so delicately

    Like

    Reply

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