the cruelest part is, by April BLue Subscribe to rss feed for April BLue

the cruelest part is
snarling sounds beehind my back
snake sounds of hypocrisy out of 
phoney baloney mouths of deceit

the cruelest part is
knowing the truth deep down inside
without actual physical proof
prima facia evidence my lord
which is so damn important
in this fickle self righteous world

the cruelest part is
knot being able to return to the woods
escaping into the vast mystery of nature
absorbing the beauty as my best treasure
knowing that God will reward me if i pray

the cruelest part is
forgeting how to be a woman of the flesh
being only considered good or bad in
terms of actual sexual production or knot
tis a pity that Christ went out solo
or that it was necessary that he be born of 
virgin skin to make God into Man
Posted: 2005-06-23 14:27:51 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.