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There is no other mystery, than the mystery of oneself, relinquishing all hope to that of guilt.

I will forever not know what he meant
words uttered under breath made no sense
harsh, as I believe they were,
never penetrated as he intended to hurt.

Categories: Poetry
Tags: #Life

Comments (2)

  • Jannie Funster . June 1, 2012 . Reply

    Best not to let those words penetrate at any time. And we do have the choice, I’ve learned.

    Short and awesome poem here.

    • (Author) Bradley Howington . June 1, 2012 . Reply

      Indeed we have a choice, but some of us don’t have a choice, and allow them to penetrate; the end has come, though not beautifully. Thank you, Jannie.

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