Prodigy

And how the hero falls.

Punching the numbers,
Without or delay
Invoice to words,
Silence and greed

 

Poverty pronounced
To purge what we would say
Thoughts most stricken,
Letters to the key

 

Holding pen price,
For the end to the means
The frown of solitude,
Drinks on the house

 

Pull back the curtains,
For what would be sublime
The echoes of the architect
Who’s lost in the crowd.

 

Pull back upon the parliament,
The governmental means
The sad stricken loneliness
That pens against the knife

 

The hero walks among us,
Quietly forbade,
Waiting for his moment
To throw away his life

 

Easy for you,
Easy to say.
Forty-Three seconds
Until the end of the day.

 

So stand against the sunset,
So stand against your time.

 

Are you hero, villain, or passerby?
For love,
Are you willing to die?

Reviews

[dead man talking]

i'm just an old man really,i'd die for love though excelent poems