A single tear comforted by the smoke
from a cigarette trying desperately to give me a high.
Still nowhere to be found.

Cured by Love?
No, I search for you
In everything I see.
Oh, Lovely Prince of Peace,
why do you carry a sword?
My enemies push through my front door,
not needed, yet welcomed.

Glory has faded.

05/04/2006

Author's Note: My first poem.

Posted on 06/04/2010
Copyright © 2025 Joe Khan