These are not men Merely just boys.
Playthings we put away, like we should our toys.

You may take them out to play.
Just don’t listen to anything they say.

Always remember to put your toys back on the shelf.
Before you keep them out for play first stop and think of yourself.

Don’t hurry and be so quick to jump.
Look at it first, inside could just be coal or a lump.

Make sure to look and see if what can’t be returned is really what will sate your needs.
Your shelves are already too fool to continue the same pattern of deeds.

Yet look around at all of your things
Cheaply made, broken, missing a part.
Think carefully and take this to heart.

Not one, would anyone else play with as much as that Stings.
Not even sold At thrift stores as rejects, no one buys these things.

Cleverly wrapped, to disguise what was inside.
All that packaging, misrepresented and lied.

What was inside could never keep your interest long.
Who wants to play with one broken toy that always sings the same song?

This emptiness transgresses loves,
offering sacrilegious its pious mockery.

Impressions bare false witness to obscurity,
their heavy scars deeply inscribed with shallowness.

Breath sucked from lungs, as attempts to breathe life into yours,

I drown myself,
frantically searching for air.

Everything darkens to blackness,
attempting to see light.

Silence heard echoing loud,
attempting to hear.

Cold Numbness felt,
to feel loves warmth of embrace.

Bitterness tasted,
in life's sweet waters.

Filled with love
Unstable inconsistencies,
a place to build futures.

Untrustworthy unreliable shallowness,
accompanied with biting cruelty.

strengths these traits,
to be Sought and desired.

Iciness beats through my veins,
Clearly I see nothing

© Kymberly Ellis 08/01/2022