A horse was unleashed today, as a sign of envy.
The goal was to shorten my day, excruciating time's ending.
How do we stop hate, pain, and ingrates of life,
Who would rather see others in strife than might?
He walked a gentle path, unaware that the move
Sought to lure his blood towards streets to ooze—
As if his death could improve
The incredible mess they deal with this afternoon.
A life of hatred only brews and brews.
It's never right to implore those bored;
Who chooses to adore such a futile chore?
Our paths to the shore
May be troubled by moors,
But we can always, eternally,
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Ignore by Edwin Cordero )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(march 12 1950)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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