Chalk

Drawn of chalk,
A figured mock.
Stands stray,
In it's portray.1

It masquerades as truth,
And the violent youth,
Come to hate,
It's violet fate.2

Young and old,
Silver and gold,
Find doubt in,
Every facet and fold.3

Your image,
Your pace.
Your marks,
Your face.4

Steal my breath,
Find it black,
In your merciless grip,
Steal it back.5

A contest entry

Thoughts.

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Comments


  • Le Masquerade silver member
    July 15

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    You have an awesome talent for rhyming, it flows perfictly. Very interesting poem, great read! Thanx for entering my contest and good luck!