By Bud Koenemund
These little songs mock me; e’er taunting in
Ink indelible as the years wasted
Begging love; the shame tattooed on my skin –
A reminder of passion untasted.
My own words accuse, indicting my mind
For crimes unpardonable, and judgment
Is damned, as if fervor can be confined
To those requiting life’s sweetest torment.
While I cannot hope to avoid the sting
Of other’s ridicule, that anguish pales
‘Gainst the unending pain self-contempt brings
An ego stripped bare as sanity fails.
Though the heart
struggles on, forever seared,
Scars left on the soul never disappear.