Tragic Contents


Transfixed
by your words but
I want more.
Feed me pain.
Punish me for
theses trite symbols
that are my reply.
Darken my lungs
with the inky atmosphere
of your dysphoric pen.
Excuse the deluge of my tears.
I am tragedy's backward child
playing games; twisted,perverse play
in a field of blackened daisies.
Neither inexperienced,nor unlearned,
I am simply another of Kismet's globeflowers as are you.

Copyright © 2004, Angelia De Los Santos