Position:Home>Poetry> Harsh Critique please?

He carries a vagueness through all of his words
As he leads me into his field
And I look through his eyes
To the root of his lies
In this room where beauty was born

So the natives all gasped when I took one more clasp
At the thoughts that I sent to the moon
While he just laid back
On the hot burning wax
That he melted to cool my perfume

And if god is a savior then where is the shore
that washed the fear from my eyes
Now my body is numb
From his long toting gun
Poking holes through the doors in my mind

He lights up a fire where he keeps his best squire
As he makes her dance to his tune
And from under his thumb
Comes a newly born nun
That he molded from his purest days

And I run to the door that’s been battered and fraught
By the hands of a badly drawn man
I still open the lock
But know he has the key
To a mind that’s been formed in a ruin

Now I look to the man who’s so suddenly bare
Of the moral that he held too tight
And I cover my bruises
In a sheet of old movies
That my thoughts still play to the night Www@QuestionHome@Com

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