Contempt – Micro Poetry…

Contempt…

My whiteness blemished by the tints of blue, green

and yellow; blood red and swift, drips, then dries, as I

lay in my bed of eternal lies.  When you are angry, your

voice becomes a fist.  While it is I who has no freedom,

it is you that stands in the fog of our world with

Pseudo intelligence and Pre-fabricated wisdom.

©annjohnsonmurphree

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-ebook/dp/B00CCG2WVK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1371790645&sr=1-1&keywords=echoing+images+from+the+soul%2C+ann+johnson-murphree

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