Poetry

The Dark Voice Speaks

I look in the mirror and see my heart in my hands, with eyes hollow and bare

The scars of LOVE lost, the pain fresh as if new all over again

Unreciprocated, withering, or ruined by the hubris of youth

Tearing down the soul in a whirlpool of solitude

The bitter Hemlock of wanting, wishing, missing, hoping on my tongue

As days become years, as youth grays from life lived almost full

My eyes cloud with tears while cold stone slowly replaces my life`s muscle

So as I wait for true Bliss to fill my days & nights

I find my solice in a bottle of jack in its stead

About the Author

Michael Vass
Born in 1968, a political commentator for over a decade. Has traveled the U.S. and lived in Moscow and Tsblisi, A former stockbroker and 2014 Congressional candidate. Passionate about politics with emphasis on 1st and 2nd Amendments.

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