Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Bad Haiku

Silent, falling drops
Land inside my broken heart,
Leaving tiny holes.



















I would not love you
For I hold my soul with pride.
You try to kill me.












Practice makes silence,
And silence makes morning light.
Morning light brings death.
















Small, green follower
Making a trail of its own
Slowly through the air.






An orb of rainbow
Floats through the hot, humid air,
And its life explodes.












Brittle flaky life
Scrapes away and now it dies.
But I will not mourn.















Fragile porcelain
Tiny hands with a message
Break my wounded heart.













Soft, quiet sunlight
Filters into my lost soul
And gives me repose.

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