A Second Salem
I can only sit here in the dark,
crying because I missed the mark;
locked and too lazy to reach for the key,
as cold and numb as one could be.
I try to be perfect,
but my life you must dissect,
and you can only make it worse,
leaving me trapped in your curse.
I don't know why you can't see,
that all you do is hurt me,
I don't know why I'm still here;
I'll be gone soon my dear.
Add more fuel to the fire,
you're the wood of a liar;
you sentence me for burning,
when you've caused the hurting.
You pretend to be a judge,
but you only harbor a grudge;
Shall I too fall and die,
because of a jealous child's lie?
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Comments about this poem (A Second Salem by Soren Valentine )
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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