Cruel Harvest

Cruel Harvest short poem

He picks, that’s what he does.
Picks his brain for rational thoughts.
Rips them apart, twists the bits and joins them back again, misshapen.
Holds them up to the light, interrogates them, tortures them and
Then drowns them in the darkest recesses.

He picks, that’s who he is.
Picks on perceived weakness.
Rips into them, tearing defences down and exposing vulnerability.
Holds them at fault, blames them, dismisses them and
Then loses them in bleakest memory.

He picks, that’s why he is.
Picks his moments of departure.
Rips them asunder, erasing the return route from his mind map.
Holds only broken friendships, empty, desolate and
Then discards them in ignorant condemnation.

He picks, that’s what he does.

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2 Comments on "Cruel Harvest"

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Member

Beautifully narrated, the curse of one who thinks over much, and is cursed to reap a Cruel Harvest ; Interesting verse @robjmann

J.rid
Member

Never a self judgment I get from this one it is always some one elses fault for his her life ails???

wpDiscuz

Money – A Cruel Agent – 4

Money   A Cruel Agent – 4 short poem

The only big struggle Is for money bristle Finishes like a bubble When we see Sin puddle. Is this so thing doddle? Actually it is a circle Vicious; none to fiddle As it makes one nuzzle In their cozy castle.

Money – A Cruel Agent – 5

Money   A Cruel Agent – 5 short poem

A beautiful and sweet girdle Collecting it is quite doddle Counting is like a hot fettle Touching it is a bit brittle. Let be the Geeta or the Bible, Let be grapes or pineapple, Importance of money able Is not