Nothing but..

where stops,
once told whispers
of ones secrets?
like a baton
in a relay race.

how many laps,
till it reaches
where it began?
does it change
in a lap’s span?

will we check,
if what we hear
is what it is?
or do we lap up
what is told?

all it takes
is a moment;
in the whisper,
steadily grows
all old rumors.

in the end,
it’s all about
the lie, the
changing lie;
nothing but
the lie.


Shared with Open Link Night Week 43 at the D’verse Poets Pub.


(May 9th, 2012)

Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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